Once Upon a Story Mode
by TealEmperor
Summary: What do you get when you mix the plots of my favorite fairy tales (Cinderella and Beauty and the Beast) put it in a MCSM setting with a Fairy Tale AU, and make it feature my favorite ship pairing? This. You get this.
1. Chapter 1

_Prologue_

 _Several years ago..._

It would be dreadfully cliche to say that it was a dark and stormy night, but it would also be true. A winter squall rolled in over the countryside, bringing frigid winds and droves of snow. The frost piled up in the leaden windows of a small but respectable castle. It was the residence of the House of Porter, one of the older and more influential families of Beacona. The old woman walking-no, hobbling-on the country road lifted her eyes toward it. It was her destination. Tonight she would have the answer to her questions...and her suspicions. Pulling her cloak tighter around her gaunt body, she fought her way up the hill.

Snow blew into her face. Wind ripped at her cloak. Reason told her it was a stupid idea, a pointless scheme. But a deeper, more moralistic part of her told her to do it. The old woman stumbled up to the dark door, and she beat on it with a bony fist. Almost a full minute of silence followed. Now it wasn't that the Porter family was absent from their castle. Golden light shone through its windows. No. It was merely taking them an unacceptably long time to answer her summons. She considered turning back and abandoning her plan. But then would they learn?

At last a servant answered the door, a scrawny lad with brown hair. "Hello? Who are you?"

"My name is not important," said the old woman. "I only seek shelter from this storm."

"In our castle?"

"Yes, in this castle. Go speak to the master of this house. What is his name-Thomas Porter, is that correct?"

"Erm, yes. You want me to speak to him?"

"I want you to summon him. _I_ shall speak to him."

He looked concerned. "Why?"

"Just do it, lad. A poor old woman needs shelter in a raging storm. Why deny it to her?"

That convinced him. The servant scurried off to go tell Sir Thomas Porter that someone wanted to shelter in his castle. She stepped inside to get out of the wind and snow, brushing frost off her cloak. She waited patiently, standing as still as a statue. The castle seemed to be all aflutter because of a simple request. At last, the patriarch of the Porter house was there before her, flanked by an entourage of servants. His ten-year-old son, Lukas, was curious to see what the excitement was about and followed him.

"Who are you?" the tall, broad-shouldered man asked her.

Again the old woman's answer was "My name is not important."

"You have come seeking shelter?"

"Yes, sir. I seek just one night of shelter from this dreadful storm. Please indulge in a bit of kindness for me. I promise that I will not cause trouble."

"Hmmph," said Thomas. He looked the old beggar woman up and down. She looked like a living pile of rags. She had an ugly hook nose, and the entire right side of her face was scrunched up in an old burn scar. Honestly, she looked like a witch.

The old woman could tell that Thomas was disgusted with how she looked. "I beg you, sir. Do not be repulsed by my appearance. An ugly visage can hide a beautiful heart."

She removed a single, lovely rose from the folds of her cloak. Lukas "oohed" at the sudden appearance of the pretty flower, and looked at his father like he expected this beggar woman to be given shelter.

But Thomas wouldn't budge. "Send her away. She is not worth our trouble."

The old woman closed her eyes and sighed. She shook her head slightly.

"Sir, how I wish, for your sake, that you had not said that."

Thomas's eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

The old woman twirled the rose between her fingers. Before everyone's surprised eyes, it turned into a yew staff with gold filigree. And the old woman changed, too. Her posture straightened and her rags melted away, revealing a stunning silk dress underneath. Her ragged hair thickened and bloomed with color. Her haggard features morphed into an angelic face. She wasn't an old woman at all. She was a gorgeous faerie.

Realizing what he'd done, Thomas fell on his knees. "Madam! I had no idea. Please forgive me!"

She was unimpressed. "Some have entertained angels unawares...and others have turned them away. I pity you, Thomas Porter. So small-minded that you judge a person's value by their appearance. My suspicions were correct, unfortunately."

"Please, madam, I will do anything…"

"You would throw a helpless old woman out, to die alone in the cold, simply because she looked ugly to you. Begging will not stay your punishment for your heartlessness. And so your legacy must stop."

His eyes widened. "No! Are you going to put a curse on me?"

She shook her head. "No."

Thomas breathed out a heavy sigh of relief.

"I am going to put a curse on your son."

"No," Thomas gasped. "No. Not Lukas! Please, madam! Please don't do that!"

"The lineage of the House of Porter stops now." She raised her staff and pointed it at Lukas. "The innocent one will suffer for your sin."

"No!" Thomas cried, but it was too late. She struck Lukas with the curse. Immediately, the sweet little boy turned into a hunchbacked, furry monster. He had an underbite, a tail, and the fur markings of a wild cat. Lukas had turned into something like a monstrous ocelot.

"Papa!" Lukas cried, itching his ocelot ears. "What's happened to me?"

"This curse will last until the boy's twentieth birthday," she said. "If it is not broken by then, he will be a beast forever. The only way for the curse to be broken is if he learns to love a girl who loves him as well. He must learn to love her of his own free will. To keep your house servants from doing it for him…"

She swept her staff through the air again, swinging it high above her head. Magic pulsed out from it.

"Sir Porter!" said Jesse, the servant who had answered the door. "What does this woman mea-"

Right before everyone's surprised eyes, Jesse morphed into a leather-bound book and dropped to the floor. People gasped in horror, and that was all the time they had to react. Thomas watched the awful scene repeat itself as the servants around him turned into housewares: lamps, tea sets, cutlery, books, end tables, feather dusters, quill pens, firelighters, and such on.

"They are animate and sentient, but they no longer have the privilege of being human," said the magic woman. "Like Lukas, these innocents will suffer for _your_ sin. As is the case far too often."

Jesse was hopping around on the ground, shouting so frantically his words were unintelligible. His front cover flapped up and down like a crude mouth.

Lukas sniffled and broke out of his father's embrace. The ocelot-boy ran off to go cry in his bedroom. Thomas chewed on his fingernails in anxiety as he looked at the panicking housewares who used to be human.

"Please turn them back...Put the curse on me instead!" he begged. "I deserve this-they don't! Please don't do this to me, or them!"

"I don't trust that you have learned unselfishness." She tapped him on the crown with her staff. "Instead, you can sit alone in your castle for ten years and watch your son slowly turn into an animal, knowing that it is your fault because you couldn't be bothered to show a smidgen of compassion for the least of these."

Thomas started to cry. He took a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and wiped it across his reddening face.

"I bid you farewell, Thomas Porter, and the best of regards for your poor little Lukas."

The woman left, disappearing into the snowy night with a halo of warmth surrounding her. No-one ever saw her again. But the consequences remained.

* * *

The years trickled by. Powerful magic kept the castle locked under the curse. Thomas Porter, overcome by grief, soon passed away and left Lukas as the last piece of the family legacy. In the villages below, the House of Porter faded from memory. The castle was thought abandoned. Lukas, repulsed by his monstrous appearance, could not bear to go out into the world. It would scorn him as a beast. He grew painfully shy and reclusive, hiding himself away from even the servants in the castle. Those servants worried about him. Almost a decade had passed since the curse was placed on them. Lukas was running out of time; it was only so long before his twentieth birthday came upon him to make him a beast forever. But there was nothing they could do. They could only hope for the answer to their prayers: someone who could look at him and see the man behind the beast.

Would such a person ever come?


	2. Chapter 2

_Nine years later_

Jessica had lived among bubbling flasks and strings of herbs for as long as she could remember. Being the daughter of an apothecary led to such a childhood. She found it a fascinating trade. Ivor, her father, taught her the names, both common and scientific, for all the plants in his trade and showed her how to transform them into helpful tonics and salves. She'd thought it was magic and that her father was a wizard when she was a little girl. Of course, that wasn't the case as she later discovered; being an apothecary was a legitimate business with no dark arts involved. He actually got offended when she called his work "magic," insisted that it be labeled "science" instead.

Today he was nose deep in his work and study as Jessica came down the stairs, toting her basket. The house was built atop his shop. She felt a bit blue today, and she hoped that a trip to the village to run errands might brighten her mood.

"Good morning, Daddy," she said as she walked past him. He was hunched over a countertop, studying some rye that had been infected with the ergot fungus. He made a tsk-tsk sound as he poked it with a prodding tool.

"Hello," he replied. "Going out to the village today, are you?"

"Yes, sir. May I?"

"As long as you stay out of trouble. And remember, if anyone harasses you for being strange-"

"Don't listen to them?"

"Precisely. You are fine just the way you are."

She smiled. "What are you doing?"

"This? A farmer complained to me that there seems to be a purple fungus on his rye crop this year. It's ergot. Fortunately, he hasn't made flour out of the stuff yet. People will get sick and see hallucinations if they get infected with the ergot."

"Oh, dear," Jessica said. "Um, is there anything you'd like me to get while I'm in the village?"

He paused to think for a moment. "Ah...We are out eggs. Oh, and if you see any glass jars, do try to get one or two for me."

"All right."

"And where does she think she's going?" a snobbish female voice asked from upstairs. Jessica cringed as she heard high heels clopping on the steps.

"Oh, look. My stepmother coming down the steps," she muttered to herself. "It's almost like a pun."

Mevia arrived in the shop in a bluster of puffy skirts and bleached blue hair. She stared down her hook nose at her stepdaughter. Jessica glanced the other way. Unfortunately, her father was too absorbed in studying the infected rye to notice his step-wife's behavior.

"You can't go out looking like that," Mevia commented, looking at Jessica's slightly stained blue dress. "You look like a peasant. Come on, we are a well-to-do family. You can dress more nicely than that."

"I like this one," Jessica defended, smoothing her skirts.

"Distasteful. How will you ever attract any suitors by walking around looking like a peasant lass?"

That was part of her plan. Jessica didn't feel ready for any "suitors" yet. If she looked sloppy, the shallow ones wouldn't set their sights on her. Besides, the blue dress was one of her favorites; it was very comfortable, and it brought back nice memories of a more peaceful time.

"I'm sure she's more focused on errands today," Ivor commented from his desk.

"Well, I only have her best interests in mind. I care about the proper young woman she is growing up to be."

Jessica sighed and resolved to slip out of the house. She could sense another argument brewing between the two, and she didn't want to be around to see it. The blue gloom still hung over her as she stepped out into the streets of Stonebrook, her home village. The sun shone on the sandy streets, stamped down by a hundred pairs of commuting feet.

She mentally reviewed her list of errands. There was a chicken farm just a little ways down the road, so she could buy the eggs as her first errand. She felt a bit blue, but she hummed a happy tune to cheer herself up. It seemed like nothing she ever did would please her stepmother.

As she walked down the street, she waved and said hello to the people passing her by. Most made no response to her greeting. She tried not to let it bother her. Instead, she focused on getting to the chicken farm down the road. It was a small, thatched-roof hut with a coop and henhouse adjoining it. The farmer, with a straw of wheat poking out of his mouth, was scattering seed on the ground for his chickens. He gave her a cursory "good morning" and asked what she wanted.

"Half a dozen eggs," Jessica requested, "if you'll please."

"Fine." The farmer set the bag of seed down and hobbled off to the henhouse. "Emily here will do the...eh...what's the word for it...take whatever you've got to trade."

"Emily" must have been the farmer's daughter. She was a heavyset girl with a permanent sour expression. She leaned against the side of the cottage.

"I know you. You're the potion man's daughter," Emily sneered. "You'd better not try to put any voodoo on the house!"

Jessica sighed. Why did everyone in this village act like that? She tried to explain that Ivor's trade was medicine, not magic, but the farm girl wouldn't hear any of it.

"The last thing we need is cursed chickens," Emily ranted. "We're already on a low supply of eggs this year, and we don't need witches messing it up!"

"I'm not a witch!" Jessica protested. "For the last time, my father is an apothecary and he deals in medicine, not potions…"

The farmer abruptly returned, carrying a basket of six eggs. Jessica, relieved to get away from rude Emily, dug out a handful of copper coins from her apron pocket and made the exchange. She hurried out of there rather quickly after that. In fact, she left the farm so quickly that she forgot to examine the eggs before confirming the trade.

"What the...Oh, no!" she cried as she took a closer look about fifteen minutes' walk later. Four of the eggs had cracks in them and were leaking albumen all over the basket. Jessica sighed in disappointment, but knew that the farmer wouldn't give up what she had already paid him. She didn't have enough left to buy a second batch, either.

"Great. There's another thing for Mevia to nag me for when I get home," she muttered to herself as she continued on her way. "I'll tell you who's a witch. My stepmother is a witch!"

Jessica decided not to think about that for now, because that was a stomach ache waiting to happen, so she focused on finding the glass jars for Ivor instead. She kept looking ahead as she trotted down the street, ignoring the pointed fingers and whispering voices aimed at her. People didn't understand Ivor's trade very well and thought that he dabbled in magic. No matter how many times Jessica tried to explain that it wasn't the case, they wouldn't listen to her.

Her search for glass jars was unfruitful until she passed the candle maker's shop. There, in the windows, she could see candles set in white, blue, and green jars. Splendid. She pushed through the doors and went inside. It was cramped and smelled of acrid, burnt wax in the shop. Jessica held her nose as she wove her way through the stacked shelves and tubs of beef tallow. The candle maker, an elderly man almost as blubbery as the candles he sold, waited for her behind a counter in the back of the small shop.

"Top of the morning to you, little lady," said he.

"Hello," Jessica said, quickly letting go of her nose. "I'd like to ask about those glass jars in the windows."

"Oh, those! It was a new idea of mine," said the candle maker, proud of himself for it. "Now you can have coloured light in your home. Wouldn't that be delightful?"

"Yes, could I have a few of those jars?"

"Absolutely, missy! I have plenty." He slapped three of them on the counter: one white, one blue, and one green. "Let's see those beautiful shiny coppers, shall we?"

Jessica emptied the remainder of her pocket to pay for the jars. She had to count her coins carefully, because she knew that, for all of his bubbly demeanor, the candle maker could be a notorious cheat. He'd swindled extra money out of her plenty of times before. Jessica was a bit disappointed that the jars had cakes of wax built up in their bottoms, knowing that Ivor probably wanted clean jars, but she wasn't about to start a fight with the candle maker. He'd probably take it as a personal insult if she requested jars sans candles. She paid way too much for the three jars and left the shop with a very light pocket.

Jessica mentally reviewed her list of errands. She had the eggs and the jars, toting them along in a basket as she walked down the road. Not wanting to return home yet, Jessica planned to fulfill a few items on her own errand list. She had an important visit to make. She took a right turn on the street, passing the well where girls her age were fetching water. She ignored their whispered gossip and made her way to the end of the street, where the village church waited.

It was a humble white building, with its steeple only reaching a meter or two above any other building's roof. It separated itself from the village bustle with the prayer garden and cemetery surrounding the building. Jessica picked some flowers along the road, gathering them into a small bundle. Then she took a deep breath and entered the cemetery. Dozens of tombstones stood around her like a grim fairy circle. Some were cracked or coated in moss with age, while others stood straight and freshly carved. She sighed, thinking about the lives and stories behind those names etched in stone.

At last she found the one she had been seeking, and tears prickled her eyes. It was her mother's. No more than three years had flown by since her passing; the grass hadn't even grown over the disturbed dirt yet. Jessica knelt before it, placed the flowers on the dirt, and traced her fingers in the engraving: " _Mdm. Harper - Dearest Wife - Dearest Mother."_

"I miss you," she whispered. "Things would be all right if you were here."

Jessica bit her lip. That didn't come out right. It sounded as if she was blaming her late mother. She muttered an apology and tried to think about what Harper used to say about being happy.

" _Help others more than you help yourself. When you are kind to all, it will make them feel good, and you'll feel good as well."_

Sounded like good advice. Jessica stood up, brushed the dirt off her knees, and bid goodbye before heading inside the church itself. She knew that, besides helping others as her mother had advised, what always cheered her up was a good book.

She met the pastor in the modest church sanctuary. He was dusting the backs of the pews. He glanced up and gave Jessica a warm smile upon her arrival.

"Good morning," said he. "What brings you to the holy house on this day, miss Jessica?"

"May I look at the church library?" she requested. "I heard that you may have received a new shipment of books?"

He chuckled. "At this rate, you'll be reading them faster than I can send for new ones! Right along, now. I have not even unpacked them yet."

He led her to a roof off the sanctuary, lined with sparsely filled bookshelves. The pastor opened a small wooden box, loaded with books bound in handsome dyed leather. The titles were etched in heavy dark ink on the covers. Jessica picked one up and opened it, smelling the pages.

"Ah," she said. "Nothing like the smell of a new book."

"That one is quite an exciting tale, I hear," said the pastor. "Adventurous maidens, ancient curses, princes in disguise!"

"And good always triumphs in the end?"

"That, and true love."

Jessica grinned. "Splendid! Thank you very much."

He winked. "Don't read them all in one day."

"Can't make any promises of that."

* * *

Her new books lifted Jessica's mood. She now sat on the rim of the fountain in the centre of town. She tuned out the bustle around her to focus on the story unfolding before her. A herder had parked his group of a dozen pigs around the fountain. They lapped water from its basin, rolled in the dust, or smudged their noses on Jessica's clothes and books. They were too cute to get angry at, though. She even gave them nicknames.

"Top of the morning, Joseph, Benjamin." She chuckled. "Don't bite your brother, Zebulun. And Gad? It wouldn't be nice of you to uh, _hog_ the fountain water...if you'll forgive the pun."

Some people passing by gave her funny looks for talking to pigs. Jessica tried her best to ignore them. The pigs seemed to appreciate her company, even if they were smooshing their wet noses against her arms and knees.

The smallest pig curled up next to her on the fountain rim and rested his head in her lap. She scratched him behind the ears. "And you are just the sweetest thing, aren't you? Your name can be Reuben."

Reuben let out a pig-sigh and snuggled up to her, nestling in the folds of her skirt.

"In this story, the prince is being held captive in a cursed castle, and only the love of his princess will save him." Jessica looked out to the horizon. "It looks rather like that castle over there, in fact."

A mysterious castle had loomed at the outskirts of the village for Jessica's entire memory. No-one knew who it had belonged to; they just assumed it was a relic from a time past, the dwelling of a family that had died off. Jessica, a lover of stories, was curious to know what secrets it held.

The lull of the moment broke when a troop of well-dressed, soldierlike men stepped out into the street.

"Make way! Make way!" they shouted. "Aside, peasantry! Here comes the House of Mercer!"

Jessica looked up from her book. The House of Mercer was the wealthiest and most influential family in the area. They owned a large manor on the edge of the city, and were known for the upscale galas and balls they held therein. What was Lord Mercer doing in this humble hamlet?

Oh, but it wasn't him. A well-bred horse trotted into their midst, and sitting upon its back was not the patriarch but his son. Aiden Mercer looked quite strapping in his green-and-black suit and silver spaulders. His hair was combed perfectly, and he regarded the commonfolk with clever green eyes.

"Attention, citizens, especially ye young maidens!" called the crier leading Aiden's horse. "Aiden Mercer, scion of his house, wishes to give an announcement. Sir?"

"Young maidens?" Jessica looked up from her book and shared a concerned glance with Reuben. "What do you think that means?"

"Citizens, citizens," said Aiden. "As heir to Lord Mercer, I must make sure that my family's lineage is preserved. I'm now of age and can finally marry. And so, I desire a wife to continue my family's legacy. To choose the lucky woman who will be my bride, I will be holding a grand gala at my family's estate. I advise all young maidens in this village to attend! And now we must be off. I shall see you all there."

With that, the entourage turned around and departed the village. When he left, Jessica turned to her porcine companions with a look of wonder.

"Gosh! Did you hear that?" she asked them, goggle-eyed. "Aiden Mercer, the wealthiest young man in this area, is going to be holding a ball. And he's going to choose who he'll marry there! That's some exciting news, isn't it?"

Reuben shifted in his seat a bit, but didn't react much.

"Well, I guess not to you." She scratched him behind the ears again. "You're a pig, after all. Not much concern in your life, is there?"

The village clock struck the hour of one. Jessica gasped and stood straight up.

"Oh, dear! It's one-o-clock already!" Frantically she gathered up the eggs, jars, and books. "I shouldn't be out this late for a simple errand. I have to go!"

 _I'm not going to hear the end of this when I get home…_

* * *

Mevia's heels clicked on the floor. "You were wasting time."

"I thought I could squeeze in a short while to visit Mother's grave and pick up books at the church library," was Jessica's excuse.

"Being late is a sign of irresponsibility!" Mevia tut-tutted. "No man wants an irresponsible wife. Punctuality is key. And bringing home broken eggs and waxed-up jars, too. Shameful. I would like you to scrub the floors and do my laundry for your imprudence."

Jessica knew better than to resist. When Ivor wasn't around to mediate, Mevia's word was law. She mumbled an apology, shouldered the bucket and rag, and got down on her hands and knees to scrub. Mevia made a pretentious huffy sound and click-clacked off to do her own business.

As she swept the wet rag across the floor, Jessica looked at her reflection in the puddle.

"They always said I looked like my mother," Jessica said of her dark eyes and bronze skin.

In the three years since Harper's passing and Ivor's remarriage, scenes of Jessica doing the work of a scullery maid had become more common. Granted, her father gave her chores at any time, but he knew her limits, and never infringed on her time to grow. Mevia, on the other hand, dished them out liberally and was fond of using them as punishment. And it had become clear to all involved that Mevia was little more than a gold-digger, though no-one ever said so aloud. Jessica knew full well that Mevia had married Ivor only because he was a well-to-do man, and Ivor had been gullible enough to believe that the love was real. Her true colours had only shown when it was too late. Now there was no going back.

"For better or for worse," Jessica commented glumly.

She thought back to Aiden's announcement in the town square today. Holding a gala to find his bride. A lucky woman, indeed! The Mercers wanted for nothing. And as far as Jessica knew, there were no condescending, controlling stepmothers in that family. Plus, Aiden had seemed like a noble and well-spoken young man. Perhaps...if Jessica could show off her flair enough…

Or was that just desperate imagination? Gold-digging on her part? Jessica shuddered, horrified to think that Mevia's influence could be rubbing off on her. There were just too many things to think about.

Like that castle in the distance. What was so tantalizing about its mystery?

What was drawing her to its hidden secrets?


	3. Chapter 3

_Four days later_

Jessica still hadn't figure out whether she ought to look forward to the gala, or to dread it. She tried to think of the positives. It would be a night of dancing, fun, and festivities. There would certainly be a delightful dinner at the event. She could meet new friends. Maybe there would be foreign dignitaries there! And of course, there was her exclusive chance to meet the scion of the Mercer house herself. As if Mevia would let her forget it.

"Ugh!" Jessica groaned as she leaned over the side of the bed, struggling to breathe. "Not so tight…"

"Nonsense!" Mevia pulled the corset laces as taut as possible. "We must trim that waist of yours! The heir won't be impressed with a girlish figure...you must have a womanly stature!"

"Huup...I can hardly speak...help…"

"Ah, good. Then you can't complain." Mevia tied the laces with a smart bow. "You can breathe and talk as much as you want once you're married to Aiden. For now, you must impress him! He doesn't want any odd peasant lass off the street. He wants a wife from a well-to-do family. Prove that to him!"

Jessica stood stiffly. Her hoop skirt puffed out all around her, making her look like a walking bell. A stiff white kirtle hugged her skin. The overdress was a leaf-green number that sparkled with glitter and ribbon. A wispy train followed in her wake, and her feet were cramped in tiny white flats. Her hair had been fried into curls with an iron and gathered up into an updo, kept in place with a silver clamp. Finally, Mevia had made liberal use of the makeup, painting on eyeliner and blush. Jessica hated makeup; she felt like she was hiding her true self behind it.

"There. That should do the trick." Mevia ruffled the skirt. "Now you can be the belle of the ball! You don't look half bad this way."

"I feel like a fluffy cupcake," Jessica grumbled.

"Oh, shush. Can't you ever see eye to eye with me?"

"Doubtful. You're taller than me."

Mevia cuffed her stepdaughter upside the head. "That attitude won't win over any suitors. You have to be attractive in behavior as much as appearance."

Jessica made a small, snorty sound.

"Be responsible at the ball, now," said Mevia. "Hold yourself with poise…"

"...Be confident?"

"Yes, confident. And remember, you should only have eyes for Aiden himself. Decline the affections of any other male you encounter at the gala."

"What if Aiden doesn't want me?"

Mevia thought about it for a second, then shrugged. "You need to present yourself as his best option so he will. Don't accept failure."

"What if I can't, but I find another rich man at the ball?"

"Hmm...Mmm…" Mevia considered it. "Well, only as a last resort. Aiden has the wealth _and_ the heritage. He's your best option. Don't settle for something less if you can help it."

Jessica sighed. "Don't you think this all is a little vicarious?"

"Vicarious?" Mevia scoffed. "Nonsense. This is your future. And if you come home without an engagement band-"

Jessica winced as Mevia grabbed her ear between her sharp-nailed fingers.

"-you'll be scrubbing floors and mucking the stalls and cleaning the outhouse for a month! You cannot waste this chance, you hear me?"

"Ouch."

"Do you hear me?"

"Yes, yes, fine!"

"Good." Mevia let go of her ear. "Now, downstairs. The carriage is waiting for you."

"What about-"

"Oh, that. Yes, I suppose your father will want to see how you look. Let us go."

She took Jessica by the wrist and led her down the stairs. Jessica kept tripping over her skirt, and she stubbed her toes in her tight shoes. Mevia shooed her stepdaughter into the kitchen, where Ivor was picking apart herbs and taking notes. He looked up from his work when he heard rustling fabric and quiet "ouch, ouch, ouches" from Jessica.

"All dressed up for the ball," Mevia said, gesturing at Jessica as if she were a pedigree dog on display. "Let's hope she returns with an engagement band on her finger."

"Well, that seems a bit sudden," Ivor snarked. Mevia frowned.

"This is my-I mean, our chance, Ivor." She looked him in the eyes. "This could be our key to wealth and fame and good reputation-"

"Don't we have enough already?"

Mevia sighed. "Well, I know that money isn't a problem, but you don't understand! Do you know how hard it is to go around the village and have everyone think that you're the wife of a warlock?"

"That's why I prefer to stay inside. Mevia, please. I'm trying to work."

"Daddy, I can't breathe," Jessica complained.

Ivor set down his tools and walked over to her. "Oh, dear, the corset. I never quite understood the appeal."

"It helps her to have a womanly figure!" Mevia defended.

"Harper never wore corsets." Ivor twirled a piece of twine between his fingers. "She didn't need them. It was the beauty in her character, that's what stole my heart."

"How sentimental." Mevia made a poorly masked gagging sound.

"She would be so proud of you," Ivor said to his daughter. "You look so grown-up. I'm proud of you. You'll be good, right?"

"Of course I will." Jessica would have hugged her father, but her restrictive dress prevented it.

"And, baby girl, please don't worry about getting Aiden's attention," Ivor whispered, so that Mevia wouldn't hear. "Be careful. Only give your love to someone who loves you in return."

Jessica smiled. "Thanks, Daddy."

"Off you go, now. Take care. Be good."

He ushered her out the door. Down the pebbled path, parked on the side of the road, was the carriage. It was a modest vehicle with a sturdy iron frame, and a team of two gray horses pulled it. The carriage driver hopped off his seat and approached her to help her inside.

"Goodness, what a big skirt," he said, his unibrow furrowing at the sight of Jessica's overdone dress. "Oh. Right. I'm Axel Jackson, by the way; I'll be your carriage driver. Whup! Watch your step!"

"Thanks," Jessica said as he helped her take her seat and shut the door. "Hey, this is a nice view."

"Anytime." Axel mounted his seat again and snapped the reins. The carriage took off, rolling down the road at a moderate pace. Jessica watched the countryside scroll past her window. She would fold her hands in her lap, then clutch the sides of her seat, then fiddle with the ribbons on her dress; she just couldn't stop fidgeting during the ride.

En route to the Mercer manor, Jessica caught sight of a distant, looming shadow. It was the mysterious, forgotten castle, backlit by a silver moon. A shudder ran down her back, but it wasn't a frightened tremor. It was the sort that one gets when they're about to uncover a juicy secret.

 _You're so enticing._

The carriage suddenly halted, ripping her attention away from the castle. Axel jumped out of his seat, opened up the carriage door for Jessica, and helped her out. Well, she didn't really need help exiting it, but she didn't want to be rude. She placed a few silver coins in his hand as a tip.

"Thanks," she said before hurrying up to the gates of the manor.

"I'll be here until you get back," Axel called after her. "Just come whenever you're ready."

The gatekeepers tipped their hats to Jessica as she scurried into the courtyard as fast as her outfit would allow. Bubbling fountains and beds of colorful flowers hemmed the walkway up to the manor entrance. Her shoes clip-clopped on the steps. Into the golden-lit ballroom she went.

And then...shyness. A crowd of finely-dressed, laughing, conversing people swarmed the room and the balconies above it. A very timorous Jessica wilted as she wove her way through the mass of people, not having any idea what to do. Here she was, dressed up and present at the ball...now what? She was too young to sample the exotic wines that servants were offering to the guests. Dancing alone was guaranteed embarrassment. It seemed like every man at the gala already had a partner. Something about this event seemed off, like she wasn't really fitting in.

"Excuse me...Pardon me...Oh, sorry…" she kept saying as she bumped into people.

A trumpet blasted in the ballroom, grabbing everyone's attention. A group of the Mercers' servants stood on the grand staircase, chins up and postures straight. They wanted everyone's attention because Aiden had descended the stairs. He was dressed in his best formal suit, with a silver sash over his shoulder.

"Good evening, everyone," said he. "I hope you are enjoying your night."

A wave of light applause rippled through the crowd.

"I, for one, cannot wait to meet my bride." He smiled. "I wonder if I'm looking at her right now…"

Jessica twiddled her thumbs anxiously.

"Dinner will be served promptly, and after that, the main dance shall commence. Throughout the night I will be watching, and when this event draws to a close, I shall have chosen my bride…"

A chorus of "oohs" went up from the young ladies present. Aiden made a small bow and retreated to the upper decks of the manor. The servants trotted down the steps and started directing people to the dining halls. She half-wondered if she shouldn't throw in the towel and ask Axel to take her home. She was already intimidated, and the event had hardly begun!

"Excuse me," someone asked her, tapping her on the shoulder.

"Uh!" Jessica spun around to look at him. "What?"

"Ma'am, are you all right?" He was a very tall boy, standing head and shoulders above everyone else. "You seem upset. Is something wrong?"

"Erm, no." She dusted herself off a little. "It's just that there are a lot of people here, and...lots of people...yes…"

He chuckled a bit. "Your first gala?"

"How did you know?"

"It's fine to be a bit uncomfortable. If you have someone to talk to, it's not too bad at all. What's your name?"

"I'm Jessica. Who are you?"

"Timothy." He offered his hand to shake. "My friends call me Tim, but I suppose I have to be all formal and that at an event like this."

She shook it. "I'd rather be called Jess than Jessica, really."

"Oop, look out." He gently pulled her aside to keep the incoming people from bumping into her. "Here, do you have any friends at the gala?"

"I don't think I have any friends at all, really." Jessica's shoulders drooped.

"Oh, dear. Well, I'd hate for you to have to sit alone if you didn't want to." Timothy paused. "Do you want to sit alone?"

She shook her head.

"Few do. Here, is this place okay?" He gestured at an open spot on one of the long, white tables in the dining hall. "I hope you don't mind my company."

"Not at all." Jessica was surprised that she had bumped into someone so friendly. "Thank you."

"Not a bother, not a bother." He sat across from her at the table. "I have been to Mercer events before. Always a bit overdone, but fun to attend anyway. Did your parents make you attend, or are you here of your own will?"

Jessica shrugged. "A bit of both. I heard Aiden's announcement in the town square four days ago, and it caught my attention. When my stepmother heard about it, though, she basically forced me to go."

Mentioning her stepmother made Jessica have a sudden realization. _She was talking to a man other than Aiden!_ She wasn't keeping her promise. Now she realized why Timothy was being so friendly. She pushed her chair away from the table and eyed him with a suspicious glare.

He was about to take a sip of water, but he paused when he saw her glaring at him. He nervously put the glass back down, as if worried that he'd somehow offended her by taking water.

"I'm sorry?" He looked flustered.

"Wait…" She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you being so nice?"

"I should be a kind person…?" He faltered, as if he wasn't sure that was the right answer to her question. "You seemed lonely and I wanted to be a friend."

"Are you sure you just want to be a friend?"

He sighed and leaned forward, running his hands through his russet hair. "Oh, no. Why is it that every time I'm nice to a girl, she thinks I'm manipulating her?"

"Wait...Do you mean that?" In truth, he seemed totally transparent in his conduct.

He nodded. "I...I just wanted to be kind. My mother told me that a real man respects women. Can we be friends?"

She rolled her napkin between her fingers. "You know, I think we can."

"So, why did you come to the gala, if not to meet with your friends?"

"I'm hoping that I will get to meet Aiden myself." It was sort of the truth and sort of not. She still wasn't sure what to make of the heir to the House of Mercer.

"Good luck," he said, not sarcastically. "If that's what you want, I hope he finds you attractive. I like you."

Jessica did a double take.

"...Err, I like your style, I mean," Timothy said, catching himself. "You carry yourself well. Once you get over your shyness, that is. Um...Isn't this the nicest tilapia you've ever had?"

He picked at his fish filet, flustered again. Jessica started dividing up her own. She watched the diners around her to make sure that she was eating it as daintily as they were. Once Timothy recovered from his slip, he and Jessica held a stable conversation. They discussed their families, Jessica gave Timothy a tip on how to use peppermint oil to focus while working, and Timothy actually understood that Ivor was a physician and not a warlock. Jessica was starting to really enjoy talking to Tim, when of course an interruption had to crop up.

"Thank you, guests!" shouted a servant. "Dinner is now completed; please return to the ballroom for dancing!"

The crowd flow forced Jessica out of the room, back into the ballroom. She got separated from Timothy in the chaos. Distraught, she couldn't spot him, not even when he stood head and shoulders above everyone else. It was like he had just vanished into nothing. She shuffled through the ballroom, dodging couples as they fell into waltzes. Then she saw it.

Aiden stood at the foot of the stairs. A line of girls had gathered before him. His father, Lord Mercer, introduced him to each young woman. Aiden had to make a little bow and kiss the hand of each one. He started strong, but it wasn't long before his expression betrayed his inner boredom.

"Chin up, son," Lord Mercer scolded. "Remember, one of these women will be your fiancee by the end of the night. Choose wisely...choose a face that you want to see for the rest of your life!"

"Yes, father," Aiden said, and kissed the hand of yet another girl.

Jessica twiddled her thumbs, nervous. If Aiden was already getting bored of the endless line of maidens approaching him, how was she ever going to catch his attention? She cut in line suddenly, annoying the girls behind her, and waited for her turn. The minutes trickled by, and her feet started to hurt from being in those stupid shoes so long. At last, the girl in front of her reached Aiden. He sighed and bent down in a bow, then scooped up her hand and gave it a perfunctory kiss.

He was about to copy the action for Jessica when he recognized her.

"Hallo," he mused. "You seem familiar...where have I seen you before?"

"We haven't talked before...I don't think."

"You're a beautiful thing, aren't you?"

"Oh. Thank you...I think."

"I recognize you. You're Ivor's daughter, aren't you?"

"Ivor and Harper, yes."

"Ah. The man with the potions…"

"Salves and solutions," Jessica corrected. "It's medicine, not magic."

Aiden shrugged. "Come, let's have a dance, shall we?"

Jessica blinked. "Me?"

"Yes, you."

The girls behind her growled in disappointment. Lord Mercer nodded, approving of Jessica's lineage-he wanted his son to choose a bride with a wealthier background than any random girl off the street. Aiden took Jessica aside by the arm and pulled her into a waltz pose.

"One and two and three and…" he chanted to himself as he guided Jessica through the waltz steps, sliding his feet across the floor in rhythm to the music. It was a bit slow at first, as Jessica wasn't much of a dancer, but soon she found herself gliding in a large circle about the ballroom. Her skirt swished, but Aiden somehow managed to keep clear of it, not missing a step as they cycled through the dance.

Jessica hummed along to the music. "You're a nice dancer."

"Thank you. So you are Jessica, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. Not a bad name if you ask me, either. What brings you to the Mercer gala?"

She answered honestly. "You."

He grinned. "I like that sort of answer! So many maidens tonight, Jessica, so many maidens wanting to be my bride. Not that I don't understand them. Who wouldn't want a mate of wealth and prestige?"

"It's a very fine House," Jessica conceded.

"And better you than street rabble!" Aiden tut-tutted. "So many girls have come up to me in plain dresses, trying to impress me. Feh. Peasants."

Jessica held back a frown. "Uh...Right."

"I just haven't been able to have the best of both worlds, Jessica. I either get fair peasants or ugly daughters of noblemen. I can't have an ugly wife, or else I'll have ugly sons as well. And that would be a blot on the Mercer family tree. I cannot disappoint my ancestors."

Jessica was starting to not like Aiden after all. He seemed arrogant and dreadfully condescending.

"But as I can see, you are both moderately wealthy and moderately good-looking...an acceptable combination. I find you thoroughly satisfactory."

 _Can't say as I reciprocate the feeling._ But Aiden wouldn't let go of Jessica's hands. She was starting to feel dizzy from his excessive waltzing.

"Oh, don't start to quail on me now," Aiden said with a chuckle. "The night is still young. We have plenty time to dance!"

"Can we do something besides the waltz? I'm getting dizzy."

Aiden grabbed a rose off of a nearby flower planter and held it between his teeth. "Such as the tango? I've been practicing."

Jessica's eyes widened. "Erm. No. That wasn't quite what I meant."

"Women and their inhibitions." Aiden spat out the rose. "Well, I'm glad that you wandered my way. You are quite worthwhile. I can see that you will be valuable for continuing the Mercer legacy. In fact, I've already been considering names for our sons."

She blinked. "What do you mean, 'our sons?'"

"Why, the four or five strapping little boys we're going to be having, of course." Aiden dropped Jessica into an abrupt tango dip. "We'll name the firstborn after my father, of course, but I was thinking of some strong, martial names for the other three or four."

"Hold on a minute-"

"After all, I love the thrill of the hunt, and I want my boys to have the names of strong huntsmen! Ah! Yes, that will be splendid."

"I never agreed to-"

"Ah, I should tell my father about my plans. He would be ever so proud to know that I want to raise a strong family of capable hunters. The Mercers are strong!"

He roughly pulled Jessica over to the foot of the stairs, where Lord Mercer waited. Standing straight and tall and holding on to Jessica with a death grip, he said to his father:

"Announce it to the guests. I've made my decision."

"Aiden, wait-"

He stunned her into momentary silence with a quick, unwanted kiss on the cheek. "The time for waiting is over. I've made my decision and I want to go through with it!"

Jessica felt her body temperature rise. This was wrong. This was all wrong! Aiden was a horrible person! She'd rather live in the woods as a hermit than get married to this ogre in human skin. All he cared about was how she'd continue his family bloodline!

"Ahem," said Lord Mercer. "My son has an important announcement...He has chosen his bride!"

The room erupted into half groans (from disappointed maidens) and half cheers (from everyone else.) Jessica glanced around the crowd with wild, wide eyes, but no-one noticed her panic. She felt like an animal snared in a trap, as the hunter approaches with a knife in hand.

"Jessica is going to be my bride...my wife!" Aiden proclaimed, as if he was announcing his kill in a hunt or his conquest in a war. The crowd cheered for him. He caught Jessica off-guard and planted a kiss on her unsuspecting lips. Jessica winced and secretly wiped her mouth as soon as Aiden glanced away.

"Congratulations, my son! The Mercer legacy shall continue!" His father shook his hand firmly. "Soon the preparations will be in order and a ceremony arranged. It will be glorious. Take your fiancee to her bedroom while we make preparations."

"Wait...What?" Jessica stammered over and over again, but everyone seemed blind to her distress. Aiden dragged her upstairs, into the corridors of the upper level of the manor. No-one else was upstairs; it was a totally quiet maze of rooms and corridors. White walls surrounded them and purple carpeting rolled underfoot. It was the picture of luxury. But to Jessica's dismay, Aiden walked right past the spare bedrooms; he was headed for his own.

Immediately, she felt sick to her stomach. She tried to pull herself away from his grip.

"Aiden, wait. What are you doing?" She narrowed her eyes in suspicion as he approached the door of his bedroom.

He turned back to her, glaring at her with those acid-green eyes. "Wait? Waiting? You're going to ask me to _wait_?"

"Stop this. You're not thinking clearly."

"Oh, Jessica, you don't understand," he chuckled, a dangerous look in his eyes. "I'm an heir. My whole life it's been nothing but anticipate this, hold on until that happens. So, there are a few things that I'm just tired of waiting for."

Realizing what he meant, Jessica panicked. She had to act fast. So she brought up her free hand to punch him in the gut, as hard as she could. When he doubled over in pain, his grip on her wrist weakened enough for her to pull free and break away from him. She shot off down the corridor, looking for a way to escape. Her skirt severely impeded her.

"Cursed dress!" Jessica snarled. Desperate, she grabbed the hem of her hoop skirt and tore it away, leaving her kirtle underneath. Then she bolted down a staircase, heart in her throat because she could hear Aiden running after her.

"Stop! Get back here!" he yelled, which only prompted her to run faster. She darted away through corridors and down staircases, trying to lose the green-eyed monster giving her chase.

"Lock down the manor!" Aiden commanded his servants. "Don't let her escape."

Jessica tried to cut across the ballroom, but some servants shut the front doors on her and blocked her way. One tried to grab her by the arm to catch her, but she ducked away from him and ran in a different direction. Aiden almost tripped going down the stairs, but continued his chase.

Jessica panicked. She _needed_ to get out of the manor. She looked around wildly, panting from the exertion. Guests in the ballroom saw her disheveled state and wondered what was going on, but she darted away from anyone trying to ask her what was wrong.

"Jessica! Over here!" someone called to her; the voice was familiar. Timothy stood near a corridor, waving frantically to her.

"Tim?"

"Come on, I'll help you." He took her by the hand and pulled her into the hallway; then they ran down its length. "What happened?"

"Aiden's no prince charming," Jessica replied breathlessly. "Please, help me escape."

"They went this way!" some servants shouted from the other end of the hallway.

"Uhh...Um…" He glanced around, to a staircase. "Quick, up those stairs."

They scrambled up the stairs, until Jessica found a large window overlooking the gardens outside.

"Do you think you can break it?" she asked.

Timothy kicked out the window glass, leaving a clear opening. Then he climbed through, jumped through, and landed softly on the grass below. Jessica was glad to no longer have a puffed-up skirt to get in the way.

"I'll catch you," he promised, holding out his arms.

"I trust you," she said, and smoothly leapt out the window. She landed bridal-style in Tim's arms.

"Good landing." He set her down. "Where's your carriage driver?"

"Outside the front," Jessica explained breathlessly, "but I can't go back home. Long story. Um…"

Suddenly the garden door burst open. Aiden and a handful of servants barged out. They spotted Jessica and Timothy.

"Stop right there!" they said.

"Go. Go!" Timothy shouted at Jessica. "Don't wait for me. Just go!"

Jessica took off across the gardens. She dared a look over her shoulder. At Aiden's command, the servants tackled Timothy and pinned him to the ground (no small task, as he was a tall and strong person.) Aiden yelled something about getting him thrown in jail for this. Jessica knew she wasn't supposed to stop. She never even got a chance to thank him for saving her!

Going home wasn't an option. Mevia would send her right back to Aiden. Going to the village wasn't either; he'd be searching it until it was turned upside down. There was only one other course of action…

The castle in the distance. Maybe she wasn't thinking clearly, maybe it was the pull of destiny, but she found herself running into the woodlands bordering the old, forgotten castle. The weeds scratched her skin, but she kept running. She ran until she couldn't hear anyone behind her.

The castle loomed at the top of a hill. With that last of her energy, she hoisted herself up the incline and forced open the ancient doors.


	4. Chapter 4

The doors slammed shut behind her with a thunderous crash. Jessica didn't care. She managed to hold herself together for a few more moments; then her resolve imploded like a pierced bubble. She stumbled out into the spacious, dark foyer, before collapsing on her knees. She covered her face with her hands and wept. With her sobs echoing through the empty room, she cried until her cheeks were stained with tears and her eyes were red and puffy. It wasn't just her disappointment or her fear. Three years of bottled-up emotion leaked out, splashing on the floor in a briny, warm mess.

At last, when her shoulders ceased to heave and her eyes could summon no more tears, she splayed out on the floor and lay there in silence. Jessica lost track of the time then. She could have just as easily cried for two minutes as for two hours. Life had just become a lull. She had shut the castle doors on her problems, but hiding them behind heavy pine panels wouldn't erase them. Yet she lacked the resolve to face them. At least not now. Right now, she thought that she could let her hidden sadness spill out, without anyone to see it.

But then someone actually did hear it, and they spoke up. "Excuse me, miss, but why are you crying so?"

At this point, she was so distraught that she'd explain her story for relief, even to a figment of her imagination. "My mother's been dead for three years and my stepmother treats me like a slave and she tries to marry me off to horrible people and I went to a gala by mistake and now a wealthy and powerful man wants me to be his wife but I hate him because he's a horrible person and he's hunting me down and I hate my life!"

"My word!" the voice exclaimed. "Shh, shh. Easy, now. I'm sure there is a solution to each of your problems, dearest. Don't hate your life. Yours is unique, after all."

Jessica wiped the tears off her face. "I guess...but there's so much for me to sort out right now. Too many things for one girl to handle. I can't take it anymore. I'm so alone."

"I feel very alone, too. We've all been alone," he said, voice soft. "And faced with overwhelming problems? That as well. I understand."

She sniffled. "Thanks...I think. But who are you?"

"My name is Jesse. Jesse Lederrucken. Who may you be?"

"I'm Jessica. From the village down the hill?"

"I see. What brought you to the castle? Did you run here to escape that rich man you hate?"

"Will you judge me?"

"Not at all, miss."

"Yes, I did. It doesn't matter how much estate he has. He's a horrible, horrible person who only cares for himself. To him, the only worthwhile thing about me is that I can bear his sons. And I don't want to do that."

"Indeed it is sad when that is the mindset of a man," Jesse agreed. "I hope our castle will shelter you."

"Our castle? What do you mean, our castle?"

"I'm not its only inhabitant."

"Where is everyone else?"

"I will show you them. But first, I suppose I will have to step out into the light, eh?"

Jessica realized that she had been talking to a faceless voice this whole time. "Um...Yes, please."

"That's very well and good, young lady, but you have to promise me one thing before I do so."

"What is it?"

"I...er...how shall I put this? You may be a bit, erm, surprised when you see the man that I am."

Jessica had no idea what that was supposed to mean. "Uh...I guess I'll be okay. I've seen a lot."

"Splendid!"

Some lanterns in the room flicked on, drenching the place in a golden glow. A leather-bound journal launched out of the shadows and skidded across the floor, coming to a stop at Jessica's feet. She glanced down at the book, bemused.

"Jesse?" she asked. "Where are you?"

"Jesse is right here!" The book whipped its cover open of its own volition and said, "Hallo!"

Jessica screamed.

"Oh, dear, young lady! That is not necessary!"

Heart pounding, she stammered, "You're a book. A talking book!"

"Regrettably," was Jesse's response. When he talked, he flapped his front cover open and shut like a crude mouth. "Well, the book part anyway. Not the talking part. I like to be able to talk. Talking is nice, heh-heh!"

"What the...How...How is that even possible? Books don't talk!"

"Don't be silly. Every book worth its salt talks. That is the purpose of words," Jesse replied. "I'm just the only book that has an audible voice, heh-heh."

"Sometimes we'd prefer that it wasn't audible," said a couch under a lamp; its cushions curved and squished together like speaking lips. "Jesse talks far too much. And about the most asinine things."

Jessica tried not to stare at the talking couch. "I...Uh...Maybe I should go-"

"No, no, please don't do that!" Jesse flapped his pages frantically. "I don't want to scare away a guest."

"Guest?

"Ah, yes, little lassie-that is what you are, is it not?"

"I...guess so. So, um, can every houseware in this castle talk?"

"Most of them. I can't say as if the bricks in the south kitchen wall are capable conversationalists, however. It's like trying to discourse with a brick wall...oh...wait…"

Jessica giggled. Jesse was amusing. A castle of talking housewares! Who would have imagined? If this was what insanity felt like, at least it was fun!

"You need a place to stay, don't you?" Jesse bounced up to her feet. "We have many spare bedrooms in the castle. Stay as long as you wish! None of those villains chasing you will think to look in this dusty old place."

"Why, thank you. That's very kind."

"We've been very lonely. No visitors in almost a decade!" Jesse said as he hopped along a hallway, leading Jessica. "Now, it's so cold and quiet in here. Not at all like it was before…"

"What was it like before?"

"Lively, beautiful," said the book-boy. "There were many feasts and dances held here...the House of Porter was known for their life and laughter."

"House of Porter. What happened to them?"

"Oh, that." Jesse sighed. "That's a long story, lassie...you really ought to sit yourself down before I tell you that one. Luckily, your room can be right here…"

He jumped up and bounced against the door of a bedroom.

"You need some help?" Jessica asked with a chuckle.

"Um...Ah...Yes, that would be nice." He let Jessica open up the door for him. "There you go! Home sweet home for as long as you need! I'll go tell the master that you're here."

"Who's that?" Jessica stopped short, standing in the middle of the pink carpet.

"Well, the one who owns this castle. Scion of the House, y'know."

"The Porter house is still alive?"

"Barely." Jesse's tone turned glum. "He's the last one left."

"That's so sad." She sat down on the bed. "What happened?"

Jesse ruffled his pages. "The story is right in here. The master wrote it down, the whole story thus far, when he was young and the memory was fresh."

A yellow quill feather sprung off of a desk, launched itself over the bed, and landed next to Jesse. "He totally did! I should know. I was the quill that did it."

"Oh yeah?" Jesse teased. "I'm the journal he recorded it on."

"Which is more important?" challenged the quill.

"Well, I keep the words after they're written, so that should be me." He had a playful tone; they didn't seem to be actually fighting.

"Bogus!" she retorted. "You wouldn't have the words in the first place, if it weren't for me."

Jessica watched them go back and forth. "...Huh?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Jesse chuckled. "I forgot to make an introduction. This is Nell."

"Hello!" Nell wiggled back and forth. "I'm a feather pen."

"She's the quill to my book...literally."

Jessica didn't want to be rude, but she did want to get to the point. "Can I see 'the master's' story?"

"Of course." Jesse flipped through his pages, landing on an old journal entry. "See it here."

Jessie read it aloud: " _I have learned to never judge by appearances, for true beauty comes from within. A single act of unkindness has been the undoing of my family. A beggar woman came upon our manor by night, seeking shelter from the brutal cold, but my father turned her harshly away. She then revealed her true identity; she was a sorceress of great power and beauty. Disgusted that my father would turn away a needy person to let them die in the cold, she vowed that there would be punishment for his heartlessness. But it was the innocent who suffered for his sins. The curse was placed upon the manor, the servants, and me...his son. Only true love will save me from my curse. But who will find me? The people live in fear of my manor and the monster that lives therein. For who could ever learn to love a beast?"_

"Ay, lassie, there is a dreadful curse upon the manor," said Jesse, when Jessica paused in her reading. "We've been housewares for almost a decade. Waiting for that special someone who will love the master."

"What happened to him? He was cursed, too?"

Jesse seemed a bit uncomfortable and changed the subject. "You should get settled in for the night. Of course, that's a feminine thing, so I'll be on my way out. Mrs. Sparks will see to you."

"Wait," Jessica said, but the book-boy jumped off the bed and hopped towards the exit. She didn't catch him before he bounced out the door, with Nell wobbling after him. As soon as those two left, a flint-and-steel firelighter rolled into the room. The two pieces glowed with a strange blue aura. Jessica pulled her feet up atop the bed, not sure what to make of it.

"Oh! Good evening to you, missy!" said the flint bit of the firelighter; she had a deep womanly voice. "You must be Jessica."

"Right," Jessica replied, a bit haltingly.

"How lovely to make your acquaintance. I'm Mrs. Ellegaard Sparks. I'd shake hands, but...well, you know."

"You're a flint and steel?"

"Not quite, dearie. I'm only the flint bit. The steel part is my son, Joseph. Joseph! Say hello to the nice lady."

"Howdy!" the steel part of the firelighter chirped. "I'm Joseph, but my friends call me Stampy. Heh-heh!"

"Hello, Mrs. Sparks. Hello, Stampy." Jessica waved shyly. "I'm sorry. I'm still trying to adjust to living housewares."

"I understand, dearie, I understand. You must be so scared. What happened to you?"

Jessica explained the situation with her stepmother and the ball gone awry. Mrs. Sparks nodded sympathetically and tut-tutted. Stampy seemed confused by her story, so he just sat quietly through it.

"Poor thing," Mrs. Sparks said when she was done. "That's a lot for one girl to take in one night. You can stay in the manor as long as you need; it'll be all right in my book. Let's get you out of the dreadful dress. Put on something more comfortable, yes?"

"Yes, that will be good," Jessica replied. "Thank you."

At that, an armoire in the corner suddenly sprung to life. "A new set of attire for the guest? I think I can manage that!"

Mrs. Sparks sent Stampy into the hallway while Jessica picked out a new dress and changed into it. Happy to be rid of the corset, she slipped into a much easier-fitting blue dress with short sleeves. She also kicked off her foot-crushing white shoes and exchanged them for sturdy boots.

"Looking wonderful, dearie," Mrs. Sparks said as Jessica let her hair down and sponged the extra makeup off her face. "That's much more natural for you, isn't it?"

"Yep," Jessica said. "Thank you very much. You're very kind."

Mrs. Sparks smiled proudly.

"I have a question, though."

"What is it?"

"Mrs. Sparks, what happened to the master? Jesse says that he was cursed."

Mrs. Sparks looked very uncomfortable. "Um…"

Jessica's eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

"It's, uh, it's a little...hard to explain…"

"Then show me."

"I don't think you'll want to see."

"I'll judge that."

"How about you accompany us for dinner?" Mrs. Sparks asked, to change the subject. "We'd love to have dinner with you."

"Dinner? But you're all housewares."

"That doesn't stop the kitchen staff from working. They love to cook. Would care to join us?"

"Hmm...I already had dinner at the gala. I'm sorry."

"That's nothing to apologize about," said Mrs. Sparks. "We'd be delighted if you'd come with us for breakfast tomorrow, though. The head chef makes a lovely oml-Where are you going?"

Jessica had one foot out the door. "I'm not tired yet. Would you mind if I explored the house a little bit?"

Mrs. Sparks seemed uncomfortable. "Well...erm...if you're careful…"

"Just make sure she stays off the second floor!" Stampy piped up. His mother gave him a scolding look. While Mrs. Sparks was distracted with talking to her son, Jessica slipped out of the room and down the hallway, until she encountered a spiral staircase heading to the next floor. Now that Stampy had mentioned a second floor, it piqued her curiosity. Her boots squished on the floorboards as she ascended the stairs.

The second floor of the castle was far quieter than the first. Here, there was no backdrop of talking and activity from the living housewares. It was as silent as a church. Jessica padded down a short corridor, until she found a room whose door had been torn off its hinges.

"Hallo," she said softly. "How did this happen?"

She slipped inside. The room was spacious and dark. Moonlight shone in through tall, leaded windows. If the giant grandfather clock read correctly, it was past midnight. A cold draft blew in, making the wispy curtains and wall tapestries flutter. Old, broken furniture and battered books littered the ground. Jessica took care not to step on anything.

She let out a gasp when she heard something clatter on the floor. She hadn't bumped into any of the debris. Was someone in here with her?

"W-Who's there?" she asked nervously, wishing she had a lantern with her.

No answer. Warily, Jessica made her way to the other side of the room. Perhaps some object had rolled off a table in the breeze and fallen on the floor. Hopefully.

The most compelling thing she found was a painting leaning against the wall. It was a portrait depicting a young man...the boy in the picture couldn't have been older than ten. He had blond hair, innocent blue eyes, and a sweet smile. But that was hard to see behind the vicious claw marks scoring the portrait. Some vengeful animal had torn up the portrait. Jessica shuddered.

A piece of furniture clattered as it was overturned. Jessica whipped around in surprise. That was too much for a gust of wind to cause. She backed up against the wall.

"Who's there?" she asked, voice stunted. "Sh-show yours-self."

Whoever was skulking around in the room replied, in a very soft voice, "Uh-uh."

"Come into the light."

The shadow shrank back to the corner of the room. Their movements were stiff, submissive. Whoever it was seemed more worried about Jessica than she was worried about the stranger.

"I'm afraid," he said, barely above a whisper. "You'll hate me."

"No...I don't even know who you are. Please, I don't mean any harm."

The shadow slowly emerged into the moonlight shaft. The first thing Jessica saw was a pair of fluffy yellow paws. Her eyes widened. Next came a head with pointed cat ears, and then a set of narrow shoulders. A bespeckled, furry body came next, then a set of limber back legs, and finally a long, flexible tail. Ragged clothes barely covered the ocelot-monster's form. His ears folded back, and he looked up at Jessica nervously.

"Y-You're…" Jessica trailed off, making a connection. "Oh, oh my...You're the master of the house, aren't you?"

"What's left of him," the ocelot said. His voice was quiet and fragile.

"The curse turned you into a...um..."

"Beast."

"I'm not going to call you 'beast.' What's your name?"

"I'm Lukas."

"Jessica."

He started to retreat to the shadows.

"Don't hide from me. What happened to you, Lukas?" Even though she already knew part of the answer, she wanted to hear it from him.

"I was put under a curse," he said. "My father turned away a beggar who was a sorceress in disguise, and in retaliation, she cursed me to be a monster. Every day I become more like an animal. You really shouldn't stay here. I'm an ugly beast."

"No," Jessica said, in an oddly forceful tone. "You're too gentle to be a monster."

"Go back to your family." Lukas turned aside. "This place is a lost cause. I'm sorry."

Putting aside that she really couldn't go back to her family, Jessica felt something else drawing her to here. She felt sympathy for Lukas, the curse victim. If what he was saying was true, he were suffering for something that wasn't his fault.

"Is there any way to break your curse?"

Lukas paused and looked back towards her, ears perking a bit.

"Is there?"

He was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "There is one way. My twentieth birthday will be my last chance. If I don't find love, and someone who loves me in return, by then, I'll become a beast forever. No-one could ever love me."

He suddenly bounded away from Jessica, running off to another room. He leapt over a pile of furniture with perfect precision, then landed without a sound. He had the flawless reflexes of a cat.

"Hey, wait," she said. "I can help you."

"I-I...I have to go!" His nervousness had gotten the best of him. "Stay here if you want, but don't let your hopes get too high. I'm sorry, Jessica."

Jessica ran into the hallway to catch up with him, but he was gone. He could move a lot faster than she could, apparently. Also, Jesse abruptly stopped her in the hallway. She almost tripped over the book.

"Oof!"

"Sorry, lassie! I didn't mean to get underfoot."

"Where did Lukas go? He ran away from me!"

Jesse was so startled that a couple pages fell out of his binding. "What? You were speaking with the master?"

"With Lukas? Yes. I heard everything."

Mrs. Sparks and Stampy rolled out of a nearby room and joined Jesse. "What's the hubbub?"

"The girl! She was talking to the master just now," Jesse explained breathlessly. "Tell me! Did he tell you how his curse might be broken?"

"Someone has to love him?"

Jesse's cover flapped open, apparently pleased that she got it, and Mrs. Sparks glowed brighter for a second.

"Yes! That! Do you love him?" Jesse leaned forward eagerly.

"Woah, woah," Jessica stammered, waving her hands. "Slow down. I just met him. I hardly know anything about him. Plus, he's really shy! He ran away from me."

Jesse and Mrs. Sparks groaned in disappointment. "This might be harder than we thought."

"But I can stay, right?" Jessica crossed her arms. "I...I need a place to hide. Aiden, that boor, is still looking for me."

Mrs. Sparks turned to Jesse. "It's true. The girl needs to stay."

"I won't argue with that," replied the book. "And she has a room and everything. The girl stays!"

"My name is Jessica," she said, unamused. "Don't call me 'the girl.'"

"Jessica. Right." Jesse nodded (as well as a book can nod, anyway.) "Please help us. We know the master is shy and reclusive. But he needs your help. We all do. Can you get him to overcome? To find love?"

She thought about it for a minute. Ivor didn't know where she was. No doubt he was worried. But she couldn't go back, because as soon as Mevia found out what happened, she'd send Jessica to Aiden without hearing another word of it. And she felt a strong need to help Lukas and his servants in their plight. Charity motivated her. After considering it, she made her decision.

"I'll stay."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Did you know that writers are champion time-wasters?**

 **But to be fair, this was the week of my school play, which I was in, so I didn't have a ton of time to write.**

 _Meanwhile…_

The jailkeeper was giving him judgemental looks. Ivor fumbled with his apothecary supplies and salve mixing, distracted. How could he not be distracted? His daughter had gone off to the Mercer gala and never returned. Jessica always returned home when she was supposed to, if not earlier. Now she had been gone for three days, and Ivor didn't have a clue where she may be. The worry occupied his mind and prevented him from focusing on anything else.

"I have four prisoners with the flu," the jailkeeper said. "Fix that curative quickly, or else the sickness will spread. It always spreads in an area such as this."

With shaking hands, Ivor shoved a cork into a bottle of prepared solution. He rose from his seat to administer it to the sick prisoners. The prison was a damp, despairing building of rough stone and iron bars. As should have been expected. Who would ever anticipate a prison to be pleasant? Rag-clad inmates languished in their cells, looking half dead already. The village pastor was here today, ministering to the prisoners, and he gave Ivor a small salute of greeting as they passed in the hallways.

Inwardly, Ivor was sure that this was a lost cause. The flu could spread rapidly through a prison, given its cramped and dirty environs. All the prisoners near the sick ones were certainly touched with the sickness now, and it was only a matter of time before it showed. Then that would reach to the inmates near _them_ , and in days or weeks, the entire system could be steeped in the flu. But he had a duty to administer his remedies anyway, so he did.

After he gave the medicine to the fourth prisoner with the flu, he stood up to leave. Suddenly, a hand reached out from a nearby cell and gripped the iron bars of the cell door.

"Psst," said the owner of the hand. "Apothecary."

Ivor turned to him, curious. The prisoner trying to get his attention was an unusually tall young man. His brown hair was a mess, and he had some scrapes on his face. But other than that, he seemed quite clean and pretty for a prisoner.

"Are you ill?" Ivor asked him.

"No," replied the young man. "I want to tell you something, Ivor."

He looked surprised. "How do you know my name?"

"Your daughter told it to me. Jessica and I spoke at the Mercer gala."

Well, if the young man knew Ivor's name, that he had a daughter, and that said daughter's name was Jessica, he must have been speaking truthfully. It would have been difficult to make up that stuff on the spot and get the details correct anyway.

"You did?" He really had the apothecary's attention now. "How did you come to be speaking with her? Who are you, anyway?"

"My name is Tim. We bumped into each other at the event."

"What happened to my daughter? Where did she go?" He glared suspiciously at Tim. "Do you play a part in her disappearance? Is that why you are in prison?"

"Yes, but not in the way that you must be thinking," Tim replied. "Something went awry at the gala. She got Aiden's interest, but it turned out that he is no prince charming. He tried to claim her as his bride without her consent. I had to help her escape."

"Why should I believe that? You're in prison. How gallant can you be if you ended up in here following the event?"

"Aiden has the village twisted around his finger. He perverted the story. Angered that I helped her escape, thus taking her away from him, he got revenge on me. He told the constable that I was the one who took advantage of her. Since he is a spoiled heir and I am an ordinary citizen, the constable believed him. Now here I sit."

"Where did she go?"

"When Aiden's servants detained me, I yelled at Jessica to run. To just run anywhere. She went for the woodlands surrounding the abandoned castle. Where she went after that, I can't say."

"That's still hard to believe. Why would she go to the abandoned castle, of all places?"

"I think you just answered your own question." Tim leaned against the bars. "She went there precisely because few would expect her to go there. There, she could hide from Aiden and his lackeys."

"She could have gone home instead. Why would she leave without even warning us?"

Tim shrugged. "Difficult family life, perhaps? Certain expectations of her?"

Ivor thought about that for a moment, then gasped. "Mevia."

"Who?"

"My wife...regrettably." Ivor shuddered. "Jessica's stepmother. Mevia was too hard on Jessica. She expected the girl to marry into the House of Mercer."

"And she wouldn't care about Aiden's character?"

"Not if it brought our family wealth and prestige to be associated with his."

"I see. A case of a wicked stepmother, eh?"

Ivor sighed. "I made a mistake."

Tim passed no judgement for it. "I will help you look for your daughter, on one condition."

"What would that be?"

He cleared his throat softly and pointed at the lock on his cell door.

"I can't let you out of prison. That's illegal."

"No more legal than putting a man in the rock for something he didn't do. There come times when a person must do what is right, but not necessarily lawful. Do you want to find your Jessica or not?"

Ivor grunted. He thought about it, then…

...he left. He put his hands in his pockets and started to walk away. Tim rattled the bars and looked him incredulously.

"Where are you going? Don't leave me here!"

"I don't need your help. I'm not so sure I trust you, either."

"You're afraid."

"And what if I am?"

"You'll have a much harder time finding Jessica, that's what."

"Quiet. You don't know much more than I at the time. Not after you've told me the whole story."

"You don't even think it's true, so how could you say that?"

"Enough. This conversation is over." Ivor didn't really want to walk away from Tim like this, but he wasn't brave enough to try a prison break. He stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, then tried to ignore Tim's shouted accusations as he walked away. He could feel the young man's blue eyes boring into him from behind. He wanted to find Jessica ever so much, but he had a bad feeling that getting Tim involved would only cause chaos. He'd...he'd just look for Jessica by himself. That would work, wouldn't it?

Not every good man is a hero…

* * *

Exhausted from the previous night, Jessica slept in very late the next morning. So late, in fact, that she forgot where she was when she woke up. She wasn't sure why she was in a fluffy bed with a purple canopy in a small, quiet room. Nor did she know why she hadn't been roused early by Mevia rapping on her door. It took a bit of the surreal to make her remember.

"Good morning, Miss Jessica!" the armoire chirped at her. "Did you sleep well?"

"Gah!" Jessica tossed a pillow into the air in surprise. "I forgot I was in the enchanted castle. Oof."

"My apologies. I didn't mean to frighten you." The armoire rocked back and forth slightly. "You'd best get dressed before you go down to breakfast. The unspoken rule in the House of Porter is that it is improper to go to any meal in one's nightclothes."

"Umm...Right." Jessica kicked off the blankets and stepped out of bed.

"It would be a tad embarrassing if the other servants saw you in that slip."

Jessica looked down at her clothes self-consciously. She wore a sleeveless white slip that reached down to her knees; she had been too tired to change into actual nightclothes last night. A cold draft in the room made her shudder and clutch her arms.

"True."

"Mind you, it is always a bit chill in the castle in the morning. Never fear, dearie. I have a housecoat here somewhere...Ah, here it is."

The armoire's doors swung open. The housecoat hung next to a clean pink dress. Jessica put on them both, wondering what happened to her blue dress from yesterday.

"Where's my…" she trailed off.

"Oh, the blue gown is in the laundry. And that hideo-I mean, _interesting_ green frock in which you arrived is...well, where that went isn't that important. Go along, now! Mustn't dilly-dally until the toast is cold."

"That reminds me. Will Lukas be at breakfast?"

"I do not know, dearie. I stay in this room all the time."

"I suppose I should get used to your company then, Ms...Oh, dear! I don't even know your name."

The armoire's doors shifted up slightly, sort of like a person shrugging their shoulders. "My name is Miss Stella Amaria. Of course, you can call me Stella. Or you can call me vain. That's what most of the other servants do."

"Aww, that's not very nice." Jessica tsk-tsked.

"Well, I wasn't a very nice person prior to the curse, so I suppose I deserve it." Stella closed her armoire doors. "And I was most certainly vain. This has been a sobering experience."

"So you're not angry about being turned into an armoire?"

"Not anymore."

"A good attitude to have...I think. I wouldn't know. I've never been an armoire."

"You can be thankful for that. It's certainly inferior to being a human."

"Thanks for your time, Stella." Jessica stepped out into the hall. "I'll be back after breakfast, probably."

"I'll be here."

Jessica left her room, then realized she didn't know where the kitchen or dining room was. That didn't really matter, though. She tripped over a book left randomly in the middle of the corridor. When she picked it up, she recognized who it was immediately.

"Jesse. Were you eavesdropping on me?"

The journal fluttered his pages. "No. I was, um, going to the studio to...uh...look for ink. Yes. That was it. I'm running low on ink. What if the master wants to write in me? Can't be without ink if so. That would make him ever so upset, the poor lad...Could you set me down? I don't like being held."

"You were eavesdropping." Jessica set him on the floor, but was still certain he had been spying on her. "Honestly, I think you have better uses for your time than to listen to two women talk about clothes. Don't men hate hearing such conversations?"

Jesse stammered, "I, uh...Just wanted to make sure you were comfortable here. Yes, that's what. Mustn't have the guest be uncomfortable. Did you sleep well last night?"

"A little too well. I woke up late and forgot where I was."

"Do you love Lukas yet?"

Jessica looked flustered. "Jesse!"

"What? The curse won't be broken until he has experienced true love."

"Don't you think it's a bit soon to be asking questions like that?"

"Not really. I didn't say if you were ready to marry him or anything like that. I just asked if you like him. Or if he liked you. It has to be a mutual feeling."

"I don't think I made a good impression on him. He ran away from me. Is he always that shy?"

"Quite so. He has been like that ever since he was a little lad. It complicates things a bit. Perhaps you can make him more outgoing."

"I don't think that's really possible, Jesse." Jessica started walking down the stairs. "It's nice to help a person overcome their shyness, but if they're a bit reserved, I can't say as if there's anything wrong with that."

"Hmm-mmm," was all Jesse said in response.

They entered the parlor after that. Jessica asked a couch for directions, and continued on to the kitchen. Jesse tagged behind her, conveniently forgetting that he had claimed to be on an errand to get more ink.

The dining room and kitchen in the castle adjoined each other. A thin wall separated them, bearing doors and windows for the flow of servers and food. Both rooms were built from red clay bricks and held in warm, tasty-smelling air. Glass chandeliers lit the dining room, throwing twinkly light on the long, clean tables. Although smaller and less ornate than the dining halls at the Mercer manor, this one somehow seemed of higher quality.

"What a fine place just to eat breakfast!" Jessica remarked as she went inside.

"Thus is the life of a patrician." Jesse hopped up onto the dining table. "I'm just glad that not all of the Porters let their wealth moulder their good sense. I've heard of too many aristocrats who were rich in wealth and poor in brains!"

Jessica coughed to hide a laugh, thinking of Aiden. Oh, too true. When she sat at the table, a blue flint and steel rolled down its length to greet her.

"Good morning, dearie," said Mrs. Sparks. "Did you sleep well last night?"

 _How many people are going to ask me that?_ Jessica said "I slept well" and nothing else. She didn't need to say anything else. She shed her housecoat and slung it over the back of her chair.

"Does she love Lukas yet, Mama?" Stampy asked his mother.

Mrs. Sparks tut-tutted at him. "Mister Joseph Sparks. You know that's a dreadfully impolite thing to ask."

"I was just curious."

"You mustn't make the girl feel uncomfortable or overburdened. Then what shall we do? We could ruin our chance." Mrs. Sparks turned her attention to Jessica. "Don't feel rushed by my son. He's just a tad excited."

A serving tray rolled up to Jessica of its own volition. On it sat a teapot of chamomile and a dainty yellow teacup. As if held by invisible hands, the teapot tipped up and poured the tea into the cup for Jessica, then handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said. The living housewares were still an adjustment for her. The tea was hot and sweet, though, and it warmed her right up. The serving tray rolled back into the kitchen to fetch breakfast.

"We're all perfectly excited to have you here," Mrs. Sparks said, trying to fill up the air with conversation. "It's been ever so lonely in this old, fusty castle. Perhaps some light and love can come back into our lives."

"I don't know if I can break the curse." Jessica rested her chin in her hands. "He's so shy. I'll bet he's not down here for breakfast because he knows that I'm here."

Mrs. Sparks made a difficult expression. It was hard to tell what her reaction was supposed to be.

"He's so shy," Jessica said again. "How will he ever love me if he's too afraid to even m-"

A squad of serving trays came rolling out of the kitchen, interrupting her. They were loaded with plates and bowls of food-way too much for one person to eat. It was likely more suited for a group of maybe fifteen! Jessica watched in stunned wonder as breakfast presented itself in an array of flying plates and silverware. Jesse had somehow snuck off while Jessica was talking to Mrs. Sparks, because now he came careening down the table, and he was chattering to heaven and back.

"What a lovely spread!" he said. "But I must say I'm a bit disappointed in you, kitchen staff. We have a guest here, our first guest in years, and you present her with these...these _table scraps?_ Feh! I've seen far larger spreads for other guests. Why are you holding back? You've gone soft over the years, plebians-gone soft, I tell you! Out of practice. Fat and lazy! I'm so perturbed. You can really do better than this-is this how you greet a lady? You had better make up for the lack of quantity with an abundance of quality. You had better have cooked the best omelettes and hotcakes so fluffy you could sleep on them-"

"JESSE! SHUT UP!" multiple people (housewares?) yelled from the kitchen.

Jesse did that quite literally by snapping his covers shut. He cowered on the kitchen table for a minute. To Jessica's surprise, a furnace came thumping out of the kitchen and stormed up to the table to give Jesse what for.

"You dolt! What makes you think you can do that?" The furnace had a loud, screechy woman's voice. "Who made you king?"

"I, uh...I got a little carried away."

"It's because you're the master's journal, aren't you? You think you're the head servant or whatever. A master of servants. There is simply no such thing under this roof."

"Erm…" Jessica didn't want to intrude in their conversation, but this was getting a little weird.

"Keep your covers shut unless you actually need to say something," the furnace concluded. "Which isn't nearly as often as you'd like it to be."

With that, she thumped back into the kitchen, leaving Jesse cowering on the table. There was a slight pause, and then he fluttered his pages with a heavy sigh.

"Who was that?" Jessica asked. "Besides the kitchen stove, I guess...who was that?"

"Nohr," Jesse responded. "The head cook and a world-class joykiller. Just between you and me, I don't intend on shutting up. Talking is too much fun."

"To be fair, you were upsetting them." Jessica filled her plate with bits of every breakfast dish that was passing her by. The trays and bowls were trotting past in a line, like hounds at a dog show. What an efficient way to move around the dishes.

"How was I doing that?"

"I think they did a pretty good job." Jessica tasted the hotcake; it really was fluffy like a little cloud. "A very good job, actually."

"So you like it?" Jesse leaned forward (as best a book can do, anyway), intrigued.

"Oh, yes. It's very nice. I just wish that Lukas wasn't so shy. He could come down and we could have breakfast together. Wouldn't that be pleasant?"

"I can't say for certain," Mrs. Sparks chimed in, bouncing off a plate of pastries. "Lukas is a dreadfully messy eater. Bless his sweet heart, but he has the worst table manners I've ever seen."

"Yeah!" Stampy interrupted. "He laps soup out of the bowl like a dog! Heh heh!"

Mrs. Sparks started to scold Stampy for rudeness again. Jessica tuned them out and turned her attention on finishing her breakfast instead. She didn't want to leave the castle, not when they needed her help. But how was she supposed to help Lukas? He was afraid of her.

She stacked her dishes and quietly excused herself. Maybe if she skulked around in the castle, she could find where Lukas was hiding from her. Jesse, Mrs. Sparks, and Stampy were talking about something or other and not paying attention as she left. Out she went into the long, winding corridors. She investigated the paintings hanging on the walls and the patterns on the floor rugs. But most of all, she kept an eye out for spotted fur and blue eyes.

For a young man trapped in a monster's body, he wasn't all that bad-looking. His ocelot form was interesting, at least. He thought he was hideous, though, the poor fella. If she could just find where he was hiding and talk to him for a minute.

"Why does he have to be so _shy_? Jessica muttered. She turned a corner in the hallway. This part was a dead end. On either side were a couple doors leading to spare rooms. But at the end of the hallway…

"Woah. What is that?" Jessica cautiously approached the object on the stand. It was made from iridescent glass and some strange, purple metal. It gave off a soft magenta glow. It was an hourglass, and the white sand slipped between the bulbs one grain at a time. Most of the sand was in the bottom bulb. The hourglass gave Jessica a peaceful feeling as she gazed upon it. She wondered what it was keeping time for.

Perhaps she'd find out soon.

A cat-shaped shadow loomed behind her. "H-Hey. What are you doing? D-Don't touch that…"

Jessica turned and gasped. Lukas stood right behind her, ears shoved forward. The fur on his tail stood on end, making it look bushy. His muscles were tensed in a defensive pose.

"I was just looking at it!" Jessica stammered. "I wasn't going to touch it."

But her hand gravitated toward it anyway.

"I said don't touch it!" Lukas sounded panicked, not angry.

"Why?"

"You could...you could hurt it. It's telling me how much time I have left. And then it'd be all over for me."

"What does that even mean?" She hadn't a clue what he was talking about "Wait...Is that part of the curse?"

His eyes were wide. "I-I…I can't do this. I can't take it!"

Lukas suddenly ran away, darting down the hall. Jessica, for some reason, started off in his pursuit. She chased him through the hallways and down a staircase, panting and puffing. He was fast.

"Stop running away from me!"

With some dismay, Jessica saw that Lukas was headed right for the big doors of the castle. He was going to run outside. If he did, she'd never catch up to him!

"No, master!" the housewares warned as he bounded toward the doors. "You cannot go outside. There are wolves in those woods!"

"Wolves?" Jessica shouted back at them. "Lukas! Get back here. Don't run away!"

"I have to!"

"No!"

He bashed the doors open and galloped into the woods. And, of course, today had to be a morning when it was raining heavily. Jessica whisked a cloak off a hook and hastily threw it on, then pursued Lukas into the rain-soaked woodlands.

"LUKAS! Come back! You don't have to hide from me!"


	6. Chapter 6

Jessica ran out into the rainy forest. The tempest ripped leaves from branches and threw down rain so hard it was impossible to see more than a stone throw's ahead. The wind whipped her cloak all around her, making her nearly trip with every step. Within seconds her hair and clothes were wet and plastered to her body, but she forced herself to pursue Lukas into the woods.

"Lukas! Lukas!" she shouted, struggling to be heard over the hammering rain. "Come back."

She saw a blip of yellows disappearing into the forest shades. Throwing herself after it, she stumbled over the uneven ground and banged her shins on rocks to chase him down. Lukas bounded on all fours, ears pressed to his skull. He, too, seemed to be going at a blind run - he barely dodged trees and clumsily leapt over exposed roots.

"Lukas, would you stop running from me?" Jessica yelled. "I'm not...Why are you so afraid of me?"

He only paused long enough to look over his shoulder and reply, "You'll hate me for the beast that I am."

"You're not a beast. You're a man."

Unconvinced, he sprung away again. Jessica continued to run after him, despite her burning lungs and protesting legs. She was no runner, and Lukas was swift. He turned a sudden sharp corner, catching Jessica off-guard, and slipped into the misty air. Jessica heard something clatter, and then she totally lost track of him.

She scampered a few steps in the direction he'd gone, then stopped to finally catch her breath. It whistled coming in and wheezed coming out. His meow rang out again; she followed it.

"You're not a monster," she muttered. "It isn't even your fault. Don't be scared of me. You'll only be rescued from your curse when you aren't afraid anymore…"

The trees all looked the same. A disoriented feeling spun around her head. The rain continued to fall, broken up by the tree cover, but not entirely. Her wet hair plastered to her neck and shoulders. Her soaked clothes hung heavily around her body. Jessica cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled out again.

"Lukas! Lukas, where are you?"

She was expecting his yowl from afar, but instead, she was answered by a howl. At first she was confused, but then she remembered what the servants had said.

" _There are wolves in those woods."_

Jessica gasped. The howl sounded out again, joined soon by a few more. She sucked in sharp gasps of breath. If a person intruded on their territory - like she was now - wolves could be incredibly dangerous. They could even kill if they were angry enough. Jessica was a simple girl from the village - not a woman skilled in hunting or even defending herself from wolves. She took off at a run, against better judgement. Even the most practical people can make stupid mistakes in stressful situations.

Lukas meowed again, but it was hard to tell where his voice was coming from. Worse, it sounded like the wolves were getting closer. The rain and the cold wind blew at her from all sides. Disoriented, she stumbled vainly away from the danger, banging her feet on stones and tripping over uneven ground. She dared a look over her shoulder. Through the cloud of sleet, she thought she could see a flash of teeth and gamey gray fur.

"Oh, no!"

There is no way that a human, even an athletic one, can outrun a wolf. But that does not stop a frightened human from trying to flee anyway. Jessica was no exception. She took off at a sprint away from the wolf pack as they growled and barked behind her. She did, however have the sense to discard her cloak as she fled to keep it from getting snagged on a branch.

There were about four wolves chasing her, and they were so angry about having their territory infringed that they pursued her down a hill and into the glen below. Some of the wolves slipped on the slick wet rocks, buying her a few seconds, but they quickly regained their ground. At the bottom of the glen, to her horror, Jessica ran right into a dead end.

The forest abruptly ended at a rock outcropping, which rose to the foot of a small mountain. It cut off any further passage. Jessica looked up at the impassable obstacle in horror, and then at the wolves closing in. Jumping out of the way of their snapping jaws, she hopped up onto the bottom of the rock pile. Desperate to get rid of the wolves, Jessica grabbed loose stones, ones that would fit in her hand, and flung them at her attackers. At the same time, she tried to climb higher on the outcrop while they attempted to follow her. She wasn't a good shot, and most of her slung stones missed. When she did manage to strike a wolf, they only got angrier and more determined to attack.

"Mercy," she whimpered, praying for help. Hemmed in by an impassable rock face on one side and bloodthirsty wolves on the other, hope seemed to be in dangerously low supply. She froze in fear, having nowhere else to go. The most determined of the wolves, a grizzly brown male with acid-green eyes, shimmied up the rock pile in determination to get her.

"Someone help!" she cried, even though she was certain no-one would answer. She'd lost track of Lukas, and he'd never hear her cries for help. Or bother to act if he did hear them.

But that's just what she thought. Suddenly, a yellow blur exploded from the forest. Jessica immediately recognized the spotted fur, long tail, and catlike body. Lukas swatted aside the other three wolves as if they were flies. Just before the big brown wolf could get to Jessica, he grabbed it by the scruff and pulled it away from her. He flung the wolf to the foot of the rock pile; it yelped in pain as it landed. The other three wolves switched targets, now going after Lukas instead. It was a horrifying, primal display as they battled in a flurry of teeth and claws.

Lukas reared up on two legs and used his front paws to beat at the wolves and bash them on the skulls; they leapt at his neck and chest with biting jaws. Four against one. The brown one was especially vicious; it jumped on Lukas's back and tried biting the back of his neck. Lukas hissed and bucked the wolf off his back. He defeated one wolf by throwing it aside and it knocked itself out when it hit its head on a rock. The other two got injured and decided that enough was enough, so they limped away into the woods. The brown one, being the most determined of the lot, continued to spar with Lukas. By this point, it was out of pride more than a need to attack Jessica.

Figuring that he needed encouragement, Jessica shouted, "Come on, Lukas! You've got this!"

He turned to glance at her, and, for a second, his eyes seemed to brighten a bit. Then that blasted brown wolf tried to jump on his back again. Having enough of the annoying canine, Lukas grabbed it by the scruff in his mighty paw and reared up on two feet again. He took a deep breath and let out not a yowl but a _roar_ right in the wolf's face. It seemed to shrink right in his paw, and when he let go, the varmint scrambled away and fled into the woods, whimpering.

"You did it!" Jessica cheered, carefully descending the rock pile. She approached Lukas, who was bleeding all over and rocked from foot to foot. He didn't seem to hear her.

"Uhh…Jess…" he groaned.

"Lukas?"

He turned to her and, with a low moan, collapsed to the ground.

* * *

He woke to the sensation of a person dabbing something warm and damp on his head. Lukas's ear flicked as he slowly re-entered the land of the conscious. Jessica smiled when she saw him crack open his deep blue eyes. She knelt next to him, a wet washcloth in her hand. Blood was smeared on it. As his senses returned to him, Lukas could feel the warm air around him and a fireplace crackling in the background.

"Jessica?" he mumbled.

"Mm-hmm." She wiped the washcloth on his neck and shoulders.

He lifted his head slightly and glanced at his surroundings. "We're back in the castle."

"That we are. I couldn't lift you, so I had to wrap you in my cloak and drag you back here."

"Thanks." He winced as she touched a cut with the wet cloth. "Ouch!"

"Hold still. It's going to hurt, but I have to clean it out," she said, squinting in focus.

"Okay, fine." Lukas tried not to flinch too much as Jessica cleaned and dressed his wounds. It stung as the dirt was wiped away. He had lots of cuts and bite marks from his fight with the wolves. But for the most part, he was uninjured.

"Why did you do it?" she asked gently as she tended to him. "That was so brave."

"Me? Brave?" Lukas stammered. "I...I just…"

"It's okay. You don't have to be afraid of me."

He glanced to the side and said, "It was strange...in that moment, when I saw you were in danger, I couldn't hold back. I can't explain it; I just felt an urge to protect."

"Well…" Jessica blushed a bit. "Thank you. You saved me."

He couldn't hold back his grin, a slight but pretty smile. He looked away bashfully. By now, the sting had subsided, and it actually felt nice as Jessica rubbed his cuts and bite marks with the washcloth. Between the dampness in the air from boiling the water over the fireplace, the warmth of the room, and the soft couch he was reclining on, he started to feel a little sleepy…

"Lukas, are you purring?" Jessica stopped short. A soft rumbling noise issued from deep in Lukas's throat.

He caught himself. He folded his ears back in embarrassment.

"Aw, don't feel bad. It's cute!"

"I'm not cute," he mumbled. "I'm a beast."

"No, you're not. We've been through this." Jessica looked him in the eye. "You are not an animal. You're a young man."

Lukas was about to protest, bringing up the curse and all, but there was something about the way that Jessica talked that silenced him. She was gentle, encouraging, and yet she was sincere as well. He liked it. The purring rumbled from his throat again. Maybe having Jessica around would be okay, after all.

Across the room, the servants peeked in through the doorway.

"Look at that!" Jesse said in excitement to Mrs. Sparks. "Look at those two!"

"They're so cute," Nell commented. "I've never seen Lukas this happy in a, like, really long time."

"How precious!" Mrs. Sparks chirped. "It's about time those two began building their rapport."

"Do you think she's the one?" Jesse whispered. "The one who can break the spell?"

A slow smile crossed Mrs. Sparks. "She might be, she might. There's something there that wasn't there before."

* * *

The doors to the ballroom in the Mercer manor burst open. Aiden stormed into the room, tailed by an entourage of servants. He had a fierce expression on his face and angry purpose in his steps. He carried a girl's high-heeled shoe in his hand.

"Days," he snarled. "It's been _days_ since Jessica went missing and still no results! She made me look like a fool in front of my guests and then ran away. What shall the people say about that? I'll be the laughingstock of the county if I can't get my bride back!"

"Sir, perhaps it is not too late," one of the servants piped up. "There are other options. Perhaps you could break off the engagement and look for a different girl. One with a more well-to-do family and perhaps better social standing. You want prestige, don't you?"

"Oh, shut up, you old coot." Aiden jabbed the shoe at him. "I don't want to break off the engagement, even if I could find a more wealthy - and more docile - bride. If I do that, then Jessica wins. I won't be upstaged or outsmarted by a woman! They're the lesser sex, and they need to know their place. I want her in that white dress, in my manor, bearing my sons! You hear?"

"Y-Yes, sir," the servant stammered.

"What were the results of your last search?"

"We searched the village the day after the gala. Specifically, we returned to the girl's house to question her family. She is the daughter of the village apothecary-"

"I know that!"

"-but we could not question her father that day. He was not present. Perhaps he was running errands or delivering medicine. We do not know. As her father was absent from the house, we asked her mother what her daughter did after fleeing the gala."

"What did the mother say?"

"The woman was her stepmother, actually. And she did not know where Jessica went after the ball. She was under the impression that her stepdaughter would return to the house with your engagement ring on her hand, but instead, Jessica did not return at all. She is almost as upset as you are. She complains that Jessica has thrown away a wonderful opportunity for prestige and financial support of her family."

"She has." Aiden crossed his arms. "Well, this is perfectly dreadful. We have no leads on where she went. She's going to get away from me, and I couldn't stand that. I'm not letting her get away from me - she's mine!"

There was a knock on the door.

Aiden rolled his eyes and said, "Ugh. Enter."

The door swung open and a young man entered the hall. He was a few inches shorter than Aiden, but a year or two older. He had the beginnings of a bushy, brown beard. Aiden's expression brightened at the sight of the youth.

"Ah! It's Gill," said he. "Good to see you, friend."

"And it's great to see you, too, Aiden!" Gill rushed forward and eagerly shook Aiden's hand. "I heard you were having trouble, uh, getting that wife you wanted. Real shame! Especially since you're obviously the toughest, most manly guy in the town - probably the whole county! If there's any way I can help, just let me know -"

Aiden rolled his eyes at Gill's brown-nosing. "You can start by shutting up for a second. Geez, Gill."

"Sorry, boss. So what happened at your gala, anyway?"

"I found Jessica there, and I picked her out as my bride. She's a little beautiful and from a mostly well-to-do upbringing. I found her thoroughly satisfactory. But then she had to up and run away from me for the dumbest reason."

Gill hung off of Aiden's every word. "What? What was the reason?"

"I don't know what her deal was. She didn't like me, she didn't want to get married to me...stupid things like that. Women and their inhibitions, am I right?"

"Yeah, boss. She totally missed out."

"If she didn't want me, she should have said 'no' right away," Aiden complained. "Whatever. Sooner or later, I'll make her want me."

"And you want my help for it?"

"Do you see this?" Aiden held out the high-heeled shoe to Gill.

"It's a shoe. A girl's shoe."

"It is. And do you know what's important about this shoe?"

"Um...nope."

"It's Jessica's shoe. She blew it while running away from me. A unique fit, but it slipped off anyway. Do you know what I did with it?"

"Held it for ransom and demanded she marry you to get it back?"

"No, you idiot!" Aiden clocked Gill upside the head with the shoe. "Why would she do that? That's one of the worst plans I've ever heard. You don't know women at all. I went around town with it. Showed it to every family in the village. Forced dozens of girls to try it on - made sure they weren't Jessica in disguise."

"Did you find the one it fit?"

"If I had, do you think I'd still be looking for her?"

Gill opened his mouth to respond, but -

"Don't answer that question." Aiden sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Anyway, I'm not ready to give up, though."

"But why?" Gill asked. "If Jessica slipped away from you, and she obviously doesn't want to marry you, why bother chasing her? There are loads of girls in the village who'd agree to marry you before you even finished asking the question. Why go after the one girl who doesn't want you?"

Aiden glared. "You don't understand, do you?"

"Um…"

"My family and I went through all the trouble to hold a gala. I made my choice. I made it fair and square. She wouldn't have gone to the gala if she didn't want me. She wouldn't have let me dance with her if she didn't want me. She's teasing me, don't you understand? I have to break down her walls."

"That sounds harder than it needs to be. Just pick a girl in town who's pretty and likes you to be your wife. There are loads of other girls. You're the talk of the town! Every guy wants to be your friend and every girl wants to be your beloved. No-one's slick as Aiden, no-one's quick as Aiden-"

"Oh, quiet, Gill!" Aiden rolled his eyes. "I get it. I'm amazing. Which is why I don't understand why Jessica doesn't like me!"

Gill shrugged. "I don't know, but I think that it could be easier if you-"

"Enough with that! You don't understand. This isn't like picking up fruit at the market. Think with a more _sportif_ mindset here. You've been along on hunting trips with me. What do I do when I shoot a deer with my bow and it runs away?"

Gill tried to say something, but Aiden interrupted him.

"Do I say, 'Oh, I didn't get that one on the first try. I'll just let that one go and look for an easier quarry,' and let the deer get away from me?"

"No…"

"Exactly! I chase that beast down, and I don't rest until it's dead and I can hang its antlers on my wall. So why should it be any different when I'm hunting for a wife?"

"Because women aren't animals."

"Well, yeah, but it's the same kind of mentality-"

"Not really…"

"Shut up, Gill! Are you going to help me or not? I thought you were my friend."

Gill was, at the moment, starting to question why he was friends with Aiden, but he kept those feelings to himself.

"I'm not going to give up until Jessica is my wife," Aiden continued, "and I want you to help me with that. Be my sidekick. We could look in the woods for her."

"The woods? _Those_ woods?" Gill chewed on his fingernails. "But that's the wood with the old Porter castle!"

"So?"

"I've heard creepy stories about that place."

"Please! You're going to let a couple spooky bedtime stories keep you away? I have a bride to catch. If you're really my friend, you'll help me with it."

"Oh…" Gill groaned. "Fine."

"Good." Aiden headed towards the doors. "The horses are waiting."

 **A/N: Wow, Aiden. Could he possibly be any more sexist? Oh, well, at least writing Gill to be the voice of reason (for once) was fun.**

 **Sorry about the wait for the new chapter!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Why the big wait? I've been having some end-of-semester stress. Sorry.**

 **Oh, and writer's block. Lots and lots of writer's block.**

 **To make up for it, I guess this is the special Christmas edition or something. :)**

Days turned to weeks. The slow rhythm of the seasons turned autumn into winter. The air went chill, and trees sloughed off their fiery leaves. Days grew shorter and nights were colder. When the winter clouds rolled in, Jessica sat by the window and watched the snow come down. The snowfall transformed the woodlands around the old Porter castle into a mystic place of ghostly trees and silver shadows.

The parlor had the best room for observing the change of scenery. Jessica sat on the sill of one of its huge picture windows. She touched her hand to the glass, feeling the coldness seep through. She shuddered, hoping that no-one would have to be stuck out in this storm. It was weather fit for neither man nor...beast.

Speaking of which, Lukas came padding up to her. He still preferred walking on all fours - going biped hurt his back, he said. Although he did walk with a more gentlemanly gait instead of scurrying from one place to another. Also, he'd started wearing real clothes instead of rags.

"Watching the snow?" he asked Jessica as he walked up to the window.

"Mmm-hmm. A nasty little storm, it is. I hope no-one is out and about at this time. They'd freeze!"

Lukas, who knew about that a little too well, nodded. "I always wondered what makes rain and snow fall from the clouds. We never covered it in my lessons as a boy."

"Oh?" Jessica looked at him, curious. "You were never taught that?"

"No. I wish I had, though. Or at least that I hadn't shrugged off my science lessons. I was more interested in books and foreign language than the mathematical stuff."

"Well, everyone has their strengths and weaknesses, I suppose." Jessica stood up. "I always liked books better, too. Story books, I mean. Most of my father's books were botany guides and medical manuals. They weren't exactly scintillating reads. I went to the church library instead."

"Botany? Medicine?" Lukas's ears flicked. "He sounds as though he was an apothecary."

"Oh, but he is," she replied. "He makes medicines and herbal salves for the sick people in our village."

"That's a noble cause." He paused a moment, then added, "If only it were possible make a salve to cure my curse."

"Would that there were...or at least that I knew of one. I'm sorry, Lukas."

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

"What do you think the cure is?"

"Love! It's love!" Jesse hissed from the far end of the room, where he and a few other housewares watched the exchange. "Ugh...he doesn't get it."

"Give him some time," Mrs. Sparks said gently.

"Yeah! He needs time to figure out that he loves her," Stampy piped up, grinning. Then he saw the adults gawking at him and asked, "Did I say that too loudly?"

"Hush, Stampy," Mrs. Sparks scolded him. "The adults are talking."

"Mama, what's going on? Does Lukas love Jessica?"

"There's something there that wasn't there before," she said, more to Jesse than to her son. "I do have some hopes for this one. Yes, I do."

"Maybe we need to do some nudging, though," Jesse said. "A romantic, candlelit dinner...rose petals...classical music…"

"That's not nudging, Jesse. That's forcing."

"So? What's the difference?"

"If you force it, it won't be real. This has to be real love for the spell to break. We have to let this develop naturally. Like a garden. I haven't been able to touch my spade in a decade, but I still remember everything. You can plant a seed and water it, but only time will make it grow."

"A decade!" Jesse spit out. "You have to understand my impatience here. We're running out of tim. It's been almost ten years since the sorceress came and put the spell on Lukas. Do you remember what she said? In ten years' time, on his twentieth birthday, the spell will become permanent. And then we will be nothing but dusty knicknacks!"

As annoying as Jesse could be sometimes, the other housewares had to admit that he had a point.

"That's true," Mrs. Sparks said. "The boy's birthday is at winter's end. We have but two and a half months to see that something comes of this connection between Lukas and Jessica."

"And we have to do that without forcing it?"

"Correct. It has to be real. We can nudge, but we can't force."

"Oh, all right."

"Look," Mrs. Sparks said, "maybe we won't have to force anything, after all."

Across the room, Jessica and Lukas were still talking. He paced on the floor, his tail flicking back and forth. He stammered and smiled nervously. He was trying to say something to Jessica, but was too shy to utter it.

"Go on," she encouraged, grinning slightly. "What are you trying to say, Lukas?"

"I was just wondering if...What I mean to say is that I...uh...um...I have something for…" His speech deteriorated into mumbling.

Jessica nodded, but didn't say anything.

"I just wanted to ask you if...I know this is a bit strange but…I...I…"

"Come on, Lukas. Don't be afraid of me."

"WhatIwasgonnasayisit'salmostChristmasandwouldyouliketohelpputupthetree?" Lukas said in a big garble.

"Huh? I'm sorry, what was that?" Jessica asked, blinking in confusion.

Lukas cleared his throat, thumped his chest a couple times to calm his heart down, and repeated, "It's going to be Christmas soon. Would you like to help put up the tree?"

"Oh, I'd love that!" Jessica chirped. "It sounds delightful."

Jesse nodded (as well as a book can nod, anyway) to the others. "Do you hear that? Holiday preparations! Everyone knows that the holidays make a perfect catalyst for _love_."

"Shush," Mrs. Sparks chided him. "I'm trying to listen."

Lukas paced a little more. "Yes. Good. We have a lovely blue spruce this year. I...I haven't put up a tree in years, actually."

"Oh? Why not?"

"I've been too depressed to do it. What's the point of celebrating the holidays when you're an ugly beast?"

"Please, Lukas, not that again. You're not ugly."

He blushed. "It's in the fireplace room. The tree is set up, but it hasn't been decorated yet. I have an, um, hard time hanging up ornaments with my big paws. You would probably be better at that."

"Sure, that sounds fun." Jessica smiled.

"Why don't you head down there and I'll be right behind you?" His ears flicked again.

"That's fine. I can unpack the boxes, too." Jessica picked up her skirts and headed downstairs to the fireplace room. As soon as she was gone, Lukas bounded across the throne room to talk to the servants.

"Psst," he said to them.

"What is it, master?" Mrs. Sparks asked.

"I need you to help me with something. Sending Jessica to the fireplace room was just a distraction for her. I need your help to keep her away from a certain room."

"The one where you keep the hourglass?" Jesse piped up. "What's the point? She already saw that."

"No, not that." Lukas facepalmed (or would it be face-pawed?) "The room where I'm keeping her Christmas present. I have to keep her away from it until Christmas Day."

"Yes, I can do that," Jesse offered. "Whenever she tries to look in there, I'll figure out some way to keep her from going inside."

"Good man, Jesse. Thank you."

"I beg your pardon," Mrs. Sparks cut in, "but why do you need to keep her away from a specific room? Why not simply keep her present in your chambers until Christmas?"

"Her present isn't just in the room," Lukas explained. "Her present _is_ the room."

He told them what it was. They "oohed" in awe and promised to keep their mouths (covers? lids?) shut until the big day.

"Oh, she will love that," Jesse chirped. "Good thinking, master."

"Thanks. I had better go now." Lukas turned to leave. "She might get suspicious if I'm not there in a few minutes."

* * *

Wintertime, and still no sign of Jessica. Ivor started to worry that his fruitless search for his daughter was starting to make him go mad. He spent countless days combing the woodlands for her, but still his search turned up nothing. Mevia yelled at him for letting the apothecary business go slack while he spent so much time searching for Jessica. He yelled back at her that this was his daughter he was looking for, and his business was second rate to that. Who could care about such small things when one's child was missing?

Honestly, retaliating against Mevia was cathartic for him. It gave him a sense of control in his situation, if nothing else. He couldn't afford to lose Jessica. She was his own flesh and blood, and she was his last link to his dear Harper. He'd have gladly lose his house and become a beggar on the streets just to get his daughter back.

In fact, he'd do anything.

The sun was setting in the woods, making it almost impossible for him to see. Ivor stumbled through underbrush and weeds. They tore his clothes and scratched his arms, but he kept going. And somehow that blasted Porter castle remained hidden. How could something so clearly visible outside the woods disappear as soon as someone set out to look for it?

He stumbled down a small incline. He snagged his foot on a rock and fell down it, landing in the stream at the bottom of the ditch. The water was so cold it could have almost formed ice. He struggled to sit up, choking and spitting out dirty water. He slipped and fell back in as soon as he tried to climb out of the creek.

"No!" he yelled up at the sky, frustrated beyond belief. "Why won't you let me find her?"

He struggled for a moment, then managed to haul his body out of the creek and onto the gritty bank. Snow padded the ground. Between the frosty air and his soaked clothes, he started to shiver. He could already hear Mevia yelling at him for being so foolish.

"Ho there!" someone shouted.

Ivor glanced up. Horse hooves were thumping on the snowy ground. Within moments, two men on horseback trotted up to him. They wore crisp hunting suits and carried blunderbusses. The man in the lead had a deer skin hanging from his saddle.

"Oh, hello, gentlemen," Ivor stammered. The hunters seemed familiar, especially the one in the lead. He had shiny brown hair and his eyes were the color of spring grass.

"Are you quite all right, sir?" asked the other hunters, a lad with a bushy brown beard.

"No. I'm lost. I've been looking for my daughter," Ivor explained. "Jessica went to the Mercer gala weeks ago and never returned home. I have spent every day since then looking for her."

The two hunters looked at each other with surprised expressions. They hid their shock from Ivor, though, and cleared their throats to maintain a dignified poise.

"Oh, dear," said the green-eyed man. "How awful! I can only imagine your desperation. My friend Gil-ahem. My friend and I were on a hunting trip when we heard your yells. We assumed that something was amiss, and so it was. You must be perfectly freezing right now."

"Y-Yes, that's right," Ivor said through chattering teeth. "I think I have to give up the search for today...but I don't want to go home to my wife, either. All she does is criticize me."

"Ah, women," the young man said, laughing. "They can be such weak, foolish creatures, can't they?"

He had expected Ivor to laugh along with him, but instead the old man scowled and narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"What? It is just a joke, sir. Most women are shrews."

"I may have made a mistake by marrying Mevia, but you should know, young man, not to make generalizations like that. My first wife Harper was most clearly _not_ a shrew."

"If she wasn't, why did you remarry?" the young man sneered.

"Because she passed on, and I wanted my daughter to have a mother figure in her life," Ivor said, tone as level as gunfire. "Go you on your way. I would rather be escorted home by a wolf pack than by you arrogant buffoons."

The youth with the beard made a startled sound, and the green-eyed young man laughed nervously. "Now, now. Let's not be hasty. I apologize for what I said. I shouldn't have been so rude. Forgive me, sir."

"Accepted," Ivor replied.

"Now, my good man. It won't do for you to stand out here in the cold." He snapped his fingers, and Gill took the deer skin and tossed it on Ivor's shoulders. "What say we take a break to warm up, and then we shall help you look for your Jessica?"

The weight of the deer skin nearly knocked Ivor off his feet. Struggling to hold it up, he replied, "That will be...uh...very helpful. Thank you. You are certainly hospitable young men. What are your names?"

"I'm Gill," said the one with the bushy beard. He had a lopsided smile.

"I'm surprised you don't recognize me, Ivor," said the one with the green eyes.

"No, I don't-Wait a minute. How did you know my name was Ivor?"

The young man dismounted his horse. Striding up to Ivor, he suddenly grabbed the old man by the front of the coat.

"Let go of me!" Ivor protested.

"I'm Aiden Mercer, Jessica is to be my bride, and you're going to help me find her. Whether you want to or not."

* * *

Jessica wound a strand of silver garland around the tree. It glittered in the lamplight. Colorful round spheres hung from the branches like sweet, juicy fruits. A golden star shimmered on the highest branch. Jessica stood on a ladder to hang ornaments on the high branches, while Lukas stayed at the base of the tree. He paced around the tree's circumference, staring at the wrapped packages sitting on the tree skirt.

"Not until Christmas, Lukas," Jessica scolded. "Don't be a child."

"Okay, fine." He scooted away. "I'm just curious, that's all."

"Curiosity killed the cat," she said playfully.

"I'm an ocelot."

"Same animal family," Jessica replied with a wink.

Lukas purred. "Your father really was a scientist, wasn't he?"

"In a way, yes. But medicine was his science, not biology."

"Right."

Jessica's expression darkened. "I miss him."

"I'm...sorry…" Nervous, his tail flicked back and forth. "I didn't know you...If you don't want to, you can always…"

Jessica hung a glass angel on the tree. "No. I can't go back. I promised to you that I'd stay and help you. Also, going back home means that I go back to...ugh, living with my stepmother."

Jessica shuddered.

"A wicked stepmother?"

"Yeah, her name's Mevia. Witch of a woman. She is a shrew to my father and she tries to control my whole life. I can't stand being around her."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault." Jessica had another glass angel in her hand. She intended to string it on a branch slightly out of her reach. She figured that if she leaned out enough, she could reach it without having to climb back down the ladder and move it. So she reached as far as she could, leaning towards it…

Suddenly she felt the ladder shift. Jessica gasped, realizing she was leaning out too far. She lost her balance and fell off!

"Aah!" she shrieked as she fell. But instead of hitting the hardwood floor, she landed on something nice and soft. Soft and _furry_.

"Are you okay?" Lukas asked her. He had reared up on his hind legs and caught her bridal-style in his arms (forelegs?) when she fell off the ladder.

"Yeah...Yeah...I think so," she stammered. In his strong arms, he could hold her as easily as if she were a bundle of laundry. His heart thumped like a kettle drum within his chest. Jessica blushed slightly when she realized that she actually liked being carried like this.

"Good. That scared me." He set her down gently and steadied the wobbling ladder. "Hmm...Maybe we need to look at that thing. It hasn't been used in a while. Awfully rickety."

"Definitely." Jessica's heart was still pattering nervously. "At least the tree is fully decked. It looks nice, Lukas. We did a good job."

Lukas and Jessica took a few steps back to see their handiwork. The tree glittered with lights, silver sashes, and glass ornaments. They looked at each other and nodded, satisfied with their work.

"It looks splendid," Jessica said. "And now we wait for Christmas…"

Again, the servants watched from a hidden corner of the room. Jesse had barely been able to keep his covers shut when Lukas dove in to save Jessica from her fall. Nell tried to keep him from talking by sitting on him, but she was too light for that. They whispered amongst themselves about what they were seeing.

"Did you see that? Did you see that?" Nell asked, voice squeaking. "How _cute_! I think he really likes her. And she likes him."

"That's twice now he's saved her from a mishap," Mrs. Sparks whispered. "If that's not care for her, I don't know what is. Now all we need is to see her saving _him_ to know the feeling's mutual."

"Is that how love works, Mama?" Stampy asked.

"A little bit, yes," she replied.

"What's the rest?"

"You'll understand when you're older."

"Ugh! You always say that!"

"But there's something there that wasn't there before."

"Yes, there's something there that wasn't there before."

* * *

 _Christmas Day_

A fire blazed on the hearth, filling the room with a delicious wood smoke scent. It mixed with the pine fragrance from the Christmas tree and the smell of cinnamon and apples floating in from the kitchen. A flurry of snow swirled outside the window, but the fireplaces kept the castle interior dry and toasty.

" _Venite adoremus Dominum,_ " Jessica sang, finishing the song for everyone. Every so often, someone would strike up a hymn or a folk tune to keep the mood merry. Though there was no avoiding that this would be a bizarre holiday, Jessica insisted on making it an excellent one as well.

"Oh, that's very nice, Jessica," Mrs. Sparks complimented. "Do you take requests?"

A giggle went up from others. A small crowd of housewares was gathered in the room to enjoy the festivities. Whoever wanted to celebrate, could, and so Jessica found herself among books, end tables, feather dusters, flower vases, and chairs. Despite their curse, they were in a jolly mood as they congregated in front of the Christmas tree. As for Lukas, he was curled up like a cat on the couch, a quiet purr issuing from his throat.

"I'm sorry you couldn't be with your family for the holiday," he told her. "I hope this will make up for it."

"It's not your fault," she reminded him. "What I'm sorry about is that no-one here has gifts for anyone. I feel terrible not giving you anything for Christmas."

"Don't worry. I understand. I have something for both of us to share."

"Really? What is it?" Jessica glanced behind him, as if looking for a wrapped box or bag. Lukas showed her his empty paws.

"It's not a thing. It's a place." Lukas stood up. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

Jessica "oohed" with intrigue and rose from her seat to follow. He padded away down the hall; she was close at his heels. They went down several staircases and down several staircases, until they finally arrived at a set of large double doors. They were a beautiful dark wood carved with butterflies and gemstones, and the handles were smooth silver.

"Oh, one more thing," Lukas said. "You're going to have to cover your eyes for the moment. Please?"

Jessica placed her hands over her eyes.

"Here we go." There was a creaking sound as Lukas pushed the doors open. A cool rush of air flowed over them. Jessica kept her eyes shut, but felt around with her arm to make sure she wouldn't bang into anything.

"Can I look now?" Her voice echoed.

"Not yet...not yet…" He waited until she was in just the right spot. "Okay. Now you can look."

Jessica took her hands off her eyes. She gaped in awe at the sight. Bookcases stretching to the ceiling surrounded her, more books than someone could read in a lifetime. Her heart fluttered as she thought about the thousands of stories tucked within the millions of pages. Time did not exist here. Nor did the outside world. Just the books.

"Do you like it?" Lukas asked softly. "This is my library. I wanted to share it with you."

"It's…" Jessica was so stunned that she couldn't speak.

"I noticed that you've done a lot of reading since you came to the castle. You must like books. So I decided to share my books with you. This can be yours."

"I don't even know what to say, Lukas. This is incredible. Thank you."

His ears folded back, and he smiled bashfully.

"You couldn't have possibly read every one of these," she said, making a sweeping gesture at the forest of bookcases. "There must be ten thousand titles in here. Have you read them all?"

"No," he said, chuckling. "I wish I had enough time to do that."

Abruptly, Jessica pulled a seemingly random book off the shelf and sat in a nearby armchair. She flipped it open. From her dress pocket she pulled a strip of ribbon, probably to serve as a bookmark.

"Jessica?"

"If I want to read them all, now's the best time to start!"


End file.
